Close
About
FAQ
Home
Collections
Login
USC Login
Register
0
Selected
Invert selection
Deselect all
Deselect all
Click here to refresh results
Click here to refresh results
USC
/
Digital Library
/
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
/
The Implications Of Cultural Anthropology For The Question: What Is The Basis Of Moral Obligation?
(USC Thesis Other)
The Implications Of Cultural Anthropology For The Question: What Is The Basis Of Moral Obligation?
PDF
Download
Share
Open document
Flip pages
Contact Us
Contact Us
Copy asset link
Request this asset
Transcript (if available)
Content
T his d issertation has been 65-10,110 m icrofilm ed exactly as received WALL, George Bernard, 1931- THE IMPLICATIONS OF CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY FOR THE QUESTION: WHAT IS THE BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION? U niversity of Southern C alifornia, Ph.D ., 1965 Philosophy University Microfilms, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan Copyright by GEORGE BERNARD WALL 1965 THE IMPLICATIONS OF CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY FOR THE QUESTION: WHAT IS THE BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION by George Bernard Wall A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (Philosophy) June 1965 U NIV ERSITY O F S O U T H E R N C A L IFO R N IA T H E G R A D U A T E S C H O O L U N IV E R S IT Y P A R K L O S A N G E L E S , C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7 This dissertation, written by George Bernard Wall under the direction of h.X.S...Dissertation Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY ... D ate ...Ju n e 1 9 6 5 ................................. DISSERTATION COM M ITTEE Chairman TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page INTRODUCTION 1 I LAWS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO HOMICIDE 21 II CUSTOMS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO WARFARE 71 III CUSTOMS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO THE CONQUERED 106 IV IMPLICATIONS FOR ETHICAL INTUITIONISM 117 V THE CENTRALITY OF THE IN-GROUP 168 VI THE NATURE OF THE OUGHT 176 VII SUMMARY AND CONCLUDING REMARKS 206 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 212 ii INTRODUCTION The general question of this dissertation is: What is the basis of moral obligation? This question is meant to refer to the broad problem of the ground of moral obli gation. That is, it is meant to refer to such questions as: What actually constitutes or creates moral obligation? On what does moral obligation ultimately rest? What, in the final analysis, causes a person to be under obligation? The problem concerning the basis or ground of moral obligation has received considerable attention. In order to see the various ways that the problem can be handled, as well as to understand a bit more precisely just what it involves, a few of the major attempts at finding a solution to it will be briefly surveyed. Two general approaches have been taken with respect to the problem of the basis of moral obligation. One ap proach has been the normative; the other has been the non- normative. We define 'normative’ so that it refers to those approaches which establish moral obligation on grounds such that one could say that all persons ought to be alike in their moral judgments. That is, by 'normative1 we refer to those approaches which claim that if one person correctly judges that a particular act is obligatory under a specific set of circumstances, all persons ought to judge that the act is obligatory under the circumstances; or if one person ought to judge according to a certain principle (or principles), all persons ought to judge according to the principle. On this approach to moral obligation, statements of what one ought to do or how one ought to judge are held to be cognitive statements; that is, they are statements that can be said to be either true or false, as opposed to meaningless or merely emotive statements. We define 'non-normative' so that it refers to those approaches which establish moral obligation on grounds of such a nature that one cannot say that all persons ought to be alike in their moral judgments. That is, by 'non- normative' we refer to those approaches which cannot say that if one person correctly judges an act to be obliga tory under a certain set of circumstances, all persons ought so to judge; nor can they say that if one person ought to judge according to a certain principle (or prin ciples), all persons ought so to judge. If these state ments were made, they would be, on the non-normative approach, either false, or non-cognitive. The distinction between the normative and non- -normative approaches will become more explicit as we sur vey several typical positions from each approach. We shall begin with the non-normative approach. A significant representative of the non-normative approach is David Hume. Hume maintains in the Treatise of Human Nature (Book III, Part I, Sects. I, II) and again in the Enquiry concerning Morals (Appendix I) that virtue and vice are ultimately determined by approval and disapproval respectively. Hume, of course, does not believe that his view of morals makes moral action purely arbitrary or un predictable- Hume is careful to point out, particularly in the essay, "On the Standard of Taste," that human nature is similar, and that, therefore, the reactions of approval and disapproval will be similar throughout mankind. However, Hume is also careful to point out that approval and disapproval are impressions, as opposed to ideas or judgments. As for the nature of the impressions, he says that we "must pronounce the impression arising from virtue, 4 to be agreeable, and that proceeding from vice to be uneasy."^ He continues his discussion by asking: An action, or sentiment, or character is virtuous or vicious; why? because its view causes a pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind .... To have the sense of virtue, is nothing but to feel a satis faction of a particular kind from the contemplation of a character .... We do not infer a character to be virtuous, because it pleases: But in feeling that it pleases after such a particular manner, we in effect feel that it is virtuous. (p. 471) Thus, approval is a pleasure of a certain kind, and, as such, obviously can be neither true nor false. In fact, Hume stresses that approval does not aim at ascertaining 2 matters of fact, and does not convey truth or falsehood. As a result, the only kind of cognitive statement that can be made relative to approval is that a person has a plea sure of a certain sort. Now it should be noted here that Hume could have made a further cognitive statement if he had developed his position along principles which he alludes to. That is, he could have taken the feeling of benevolence, and stated that this feeling represented an ^David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge (Oxford, 1896), p. 470. ^David Hume, Enquiries concerning the Human Under standing and concerning the Principles of Morals, ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge, 2d ed. (Oxford, 1902), pp. 287, 294. essential aspect of human nature, which, if not followed, would lead both to an incomplete fulfillment and a distor tion of human personality. If Hume had taken this approach, he could have made the perfectly cognitive statement that one ought to approve benevolence in feeling and action. In other words, upon the assumption that one ought to ap prove that which fulfills human nature, and the factual statement that benevolence fulfills human nature, one could arrive at the cognitively true conclusion that one ought to approve benevolence. But from the bare feeling of approval toward benevolence, one cannot move to the state ment that one ought to approve benevolence, unless some thing further is said in terms of the fulfillment of human nature, or unless one holds that the feeling of approval, as well as other feelings, are not just "bare" feelings, but in some sense are means of cognitive apprehension. Hume, of course, takes neither of these approaches, although he starts on the approach relating to the fulfill ment of human nature. Yet, as his position stands, the only cognitive statement that can be made relative to approval is that a person has a pleasure of a certain sort. The consequence is that one can never make a cognitive statement to the effect that every person ought to have the "pleasing sentiment of approbation" with regard to actions of a certain sort. One can at best only say that the majority of mankind do have the pleasing sentiment with regard to certain actions. If a person approves what many or most persons do not approve, one could not say that he was wrong, in the sense that he ought not to approve what he does approve, but simply that he was different. The non-normative approach to ethics has been given its clearest expression in the present century by the group of ethical theorists referred to as the emotivists. These individuals have, in effect, followed out consistently the implications of the position of David Hume. They begin their ethical analysis with a consideration of statements of moral obligation. They reach the fundamental conclusion that statements of moral obligation are not essentially factual, but are essentially expressive or imperative statements. To be sure, they grant, as would Hume, that a factual element is involved. For example, in the ethical statement, "Stealing is wrong," the emotivist would hold that the factual element is expressed either by a Humean statement such as, "I disapprove of stealing," or by a statement of the form, "Stealing is an act in which a per- son takes, without permission, that which belongs to an other." However, following the general principles laid down by Hume, the emotivist emphasizes that the factual element of a moral statement is not what distinguishes a moral from a non-moral statement. He stresses that the former, in" contrast to the latter, is "normative" in char acter. The question, then, is: What does the emotivist mean by 'normative'? What gives moral statements their peculiarly normative character? Is it a cognitive princi ple, or some other kind of cognitive element of a normative nature? The emotivist claims that his analysis of ethical statements reveals only the cognitive or factual elements noted above. Thus, he concludes that the normative nature of ethical statements must be referred to the non-cognitive, expressive-imperative elements of the statements. In other words, an ethical statement is normative in that it ex presses an attitude or emotion, or in that it expresses an imperative, such as, "Do not steal'." This may appear to be a rather strange use of the word 'normative,' but the emotivist is quite clear in stating that by 'normative* he is referring to the character of ethics as it seeks to direct or redirect attitudes.^ As for the basis of moral obligation, the emotivist position reduces to the view- point that moral obligation res's ultimately on the atti tudes or emotions of an individual. These attitudes and emotions may be fairly similar throughout mankind, but from the fact that certain attitudes and emotions are fair ly universal, one cannot arrive at the position that cer tain actions ought to be performed. One of the most outstanding representatives of the normative approach to moral obligation is Immanuel Kant. Kant maintains that obligation arises out of objective laws of reason, which laws determine the will. He says: The determination of such a will £that is, a will that does not always choose in accordance with the principles of reason] according to objective laws is obligation, that is to say, the relation of the objective laws to a will that is not thoroughly good is conceived as the determination of the will of a rational being by principles of reason, but which the will from its nature does not of neces sity follow. Thus, obligation is created or constituted by objective q ^Charles Stevenson, Ethics and Language (New Haven, 1947), p. 134. ^Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, trans. Thomas Kingsmill Abbott, in Great Books of the Western World. XLII, ed. Robert Maynard Hutchins (Chicago, 1952), p. 265a. laws of reason, these laws being necessary principles for the will, according to which principles specific actions are to be deduced by the will or practical reason. But to speak of a law which is a necessary principle for the will is, according to Kant, to speak of a command of reason. The formulation of such a command is an imperative. Now inasmuch as Kant holds that law in essence is universal, he quite logically maintains that the law of reason, conceived as a command, must also be universal. This means that the fundamental moral imperative will be an unconditioned imperative; that is, it will not look be yond itself to the attainment of any further purpose. If it did, it could not be strictly universal. Thus, the fundamental moral imperative is categorical. Kant refers to this categorical as an j a priori synthetical practical proposition, and states it in the following manner: "Act only on that maxim where/ y thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law" (p. 268b). The important point to note about Kant is his in sistence that universal law, as proceeding from the reason, is the basis of moral obligation. Kant clearly seeks to establish morality on grounds other than individual inter est or inclination. One could say with some assurance that 10 if Kant were alive today, he probably would not cast the moral law in terms of an imperative, for fear of being taken for an emotivist. Of coarse, Kant's imperative is not a mere expression of an attitude, or a mere attempt to direct or redirect the attitudes of others. The imperative of Kant is a command of reason, and as such it lays claim to definite cognitive content. This is obvious from the fact that Kant refers to it as an a_ priori synthetical practical proposition. Another position which is, for the most part, radi cally dissimilar to Kant's, but which agrees with his position in appealing to a universal principle, is the position of John Stuart Mill. Mill takes a utilitarian approach to ethics. According to him actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain, and the privation of pleasure.5 Thus, for Mill, moral obligation is ultimately based on the principle that the greatest happiness ought to be the end of action. In contrast to Kant's categorical, which ^John Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism, in Great Books, XL1II, p. 448a. 11 requires that actions conform to law regardless of the consequences, Mill's principle makes consequences all important and completely determinative for moral action. The significant point to note, though, is that Mill's prin ciple is no less universal, no less binding, and apparently no less cognitive than Kant's. Another normative approach is that of the intui- tionists, represented by Sir David Ross. Ross maintains that obligation ultimately rests upon the cognitive, non- natural relation of rightness or obligatoriness. This relation is apprehended intuitively in specific moral principles, referred to by him as prima facie duties. These principles are universal in their application, but they do not say precisely what one's duty is in a specific situation. They only state a conditional duty. Ross says: I suggest 'prima facie duty' or 'conditional duty' as a brief way of referring to the characteristic (quite distinct from that of being a duty proper) which an act has in virtue of being of a certain kind (e.g. the keeping of a promise), of being an act which would be a duty proper if it were not at the same time of another kind which is morally significant ^W. D. Ross, The Right and the Good (Oxford, 1930), p. 19. 12 Inasmuch as Ross holds to prima facie duties, he, in contrast to Kant and Mill, does not reduce moral obli gation to any single principle. Rather he has as many principles as there are prima facie duties. However, these prima facie principles are all united in that they are obligatory for all persons, and in that they are all con stituted by the non-natural relation of rightness or obli gatoriness . From these various attempts at answering the ques tion concerning the basis of moral obligation, one can see that the question is not a single question, but rather a complex of questions. When one asks concerning the basis or ground of moral obligation, he is first of all faced with the primary question as to the precise character of the grounds. That is, does moral obligation rest on emo tions or attitudes, on a general normative principle, or on something else? If a normative principle (or princi ples) is involved, a series of further questions arise. What is the principle? Is it the principle of utility, the categorical of Kant, the prima facie principles of Ross, or what? In addition, what is the locus of the principle? Does it have a platonic subsistence; is it located in the will of God; or is it located in man as a principle of 13 human nature? And finally, how is the principle appre hended? Is it apprehended intuitively by a special form of "seeing" peculiar to moral truth; is it apprehended by the understanding just as any other truth would be appre hended; or is it apprehended in some different manner? Whether one takes a normative or non-normative position, he must also answer the question as to the precise nature of the moral ought. Is it the prudential ought; is it a distinctive non-natural kind of ethical relation; or is it simply an expressive-imperative utterance? All these questions--and others--are involved in a consideration of the basis of moral obligation. Obviously to treat each question exhaustively would be far beyond the scope of this dissertation. Moreover, which questions will be emphasized depends in large measure on the specific solution given to the fundamental question concerning the precise nature of the grounds of moral obligation. The question that now arises is: What approach can one take in seeking to decide between the various alterna tive theories as to the basis of moral obligation? Is there any particularly fruitful method of procedure? The usual answer is that the best approach is a strictly philo sophical one. On this approach one seeks to determine with reference to a theory the precise meaning of terms used, the specific assumptions involved, whether they are consistent, what the implications of the theory are, and whether it is true to and can account for human moral ex perience. The approach here will be somewhat different. To be sure, a philosophical procedure will be employed. The basic objective, though, will be to examine human moral experience among the peoples investigated by the special ized discipline of cultural anthropology, in order to see whether anything relevant is revealed concerning the gen eral problem of the basis of moral obligation. In other words, the question to be discussed will be: What does the material of cultural anthropology imply, if anything, that may be significant for the problem of the basis of moral obligation? The obvious difficulty with respect to this approach is that having to do with the relation between fact and norm. How can a study of what i_s reveal anything signifi cant about what ought to be? In particular, how can a study of the peoples examined by cultural anthropology, peoples which are often primitive or very backward, reveal 15 anything about what ought to be? First of all, as for the general question of how human moral experience--what is— can reveal anything significant about what ought to be, one could probably say with a degree of certainty that all philosophers at some time do, as a matter of fact, appeal to human moral experience. The appeal is not normally made with the objective cf merely saying that just because human beings make moral judgments in such and such a way, they ought to do so. Hather the appeal is made with the objective of seeing whether or not a moral theory is con sistent with the best human moral insights, or whether one finds in human moral experience what one would expect on the basis of the theory. As a general rule, then, philos ophers have looked upon human moral experience as being relevant to normative morality. But once a person admits that human moral experience can say something relevant about moral obligation he is well on his way toward admitting that the moral experience of primitive people can say something relevant about moral obligation. However, in order to reveal more clearly the possible relationships between human moral experience, particularly primitive moral experience, and normative morality, perhaps the best procedure would be to point out 16 specifically how a survey of primitive morality might have bearing on the question of the basis of moral obligation. In the first place, if a survey of primitive moral ity shows that primitive man establishes moral obligation in a certain way, the question can be raised as to whether this is a unique means of establishing moral obligation, or whether it is paralleled in civilized people. If a means of establishing moral obligation is discovered which is common to both primitive and civilized people, then one could theorize that he has hit upon that which represents valid fundamental moral perception among human beings. Obviously this conclusion does not follow as a matter of logical necessity, but stands merely as a hypothesis need ing further philosophical analysis and testing. The hypo- thesis rests on the assumption that basic moral insight is 9 linked to human nature. Inasmuch as human nature is uni versal, one would expect to find certain moral insights-- the more fundamental. ones--universally. The discovery of a moral universal does not prove that a valid moral uni versal has been found. It only suggests the possibility that the universal might be a universal representing valid moral insight. 17 On the other hand, if one were to expect to find certain fundamental moral insights universally, but did not find them, then the question would arise as to why not. One could suggest either that the moral theory which led one to expect the insights universally was wrong, or he could endeavor to explain why people of a certain type, primitives in particular, should not be expected to have the insights. A still further use of the cultural material could be conceived in relation to non-normative approaches of a Humean or emotivist nature. If primitive moral statements cannot be reduced either to reactions of approval, or ex pressions of attitude or emotion, but rather give evidence of an implicit recognition of a general principle or prin ciples, then moral statements among at least one class of people cannot be adequately analyzed in the manner sug gested by Hume or the emotivists. The question then arises as to why the primitive approach according to principle should be abandoned for the Humean or emotivist approach. What makes the latter superior to the former? Obviously the approach by way of cultural anthropol ogy will not provide implications of significance for all possible theories concerning the basis of moral obligation. 18 In fact, significant implication will be limited to only a few theories. Moreover, the reasoning involved will be of a rather inferential and speculative nature, calling for various assumptions from time to time. As a result, the conclusions reached will be merely of a tentative and sug gestive nature: the objective of this dissertation is not to derive irrefutable conclusions from unshakeable argu ments, but simply to show the general direction in which the cultural material seems to point. In presenting the cultural material, attention will be restricted to a narrow range of facts. The facts will have to do with laws and attitudes relating to homicide, warfare, and the treatment of the politically dominated. These facts will be drawn from a great many cultures, rather than just a few, the object being to gain an impres sion, not of what may take place in a few exceptional cul tures, but of what takes place in many cultures located in many different places on the earth. The specific question in terms of the cultural facts will be: What do the laws, customs, and attitudes relating to homicide, warfare, and the treatment of the politically dominated reveal about the moral obligation not to kill? 19 The reason for bringing a narrow range of facts to bear on a specific moral obligation is threefold. First of all, the obligation not to kill would probably be granted by persons of the most diverse ethical standpoints to be a very fundamental moral obligation. The assumption is that the most significant conclusions with respect to moral obligation, particularly as moral obligation relates to the problem of universality of moral insight, can be ob tained by referring to a basic moral obligation. Another assumption is that the insights acquired with respect to a fundamental moral obligation will probably have equal relevance for most other moral obligations. Secondly, a consideration of the cultural material having to do with a great number of moral obligations would only tend to super ficiality. Limiting consideration to a narrow range of facts relating to a single moral obligation, permits a more detailed, exhaustive, and critical treatment of the material. Thirdly, the material relating to the moral obligation not to kill does, as a matter of fact, contain the major facts that can throw light on the question of the basis of moral obligation. The question first to be pursued, then, is: What do the laws, customs, and attitudes relating to homicide, 20 do the laws, customs, and attitudes relating to homicide, warfare, and the treatment of the politically dominated reveal about the moral obligation not to kill? CHAPTER I LAWS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO HOMICIDE The laws and attitudes relating to homicide in the numerous cultures of the world are highly varied, running all the way from an apparently light and frivolous attitude toward homicide to an attitude that is harsh and unbending. Homicide and Attenuating Circumstances In a number of cultures the circumstances surround ing a homicide have little mitigating effect on the nature of the crime. For example, Jones notes that among the Tlingit of Alaska homicide is punishable even though it may have been accidental or performed for justifiable reasons. He relates an incident in which a drunken native, infatuated with a girl, made a fiendish attempt to ravish her. While battering in her door to carry out his brutal purpose, he was shot and killed by her people. For this justifiable piece of homicide, a man had to pay 21 22 his life, and that man was none other than the girl's husband and natural protector.^ In a similar manner the Tallensi of Ghana hold that the taking of another life is wrong even in the case of self-defense. Fortes remarks that - - though homicide seems to have been an infrequent occurrence in the past, it was by no means rare; but every instance I have heard of was presented as a reprehensible action, even if it was due to prov ocation or done in self-help.^ Gutierrez de Pineda observes concerning the Goajiro of Colombia that no attenuating circumstances are taken into account, not even that the killing was involuntary or done in self-defense, since the Guajiro solely considers the act itself.^ This quotation reveals not merely that the Goajiro stand with those groups which disregard the circumstances sur rounding homicide, but, more importantly, it gives the reason why they disregard the circumstances: "the Guajiro solely considers the act itself." ■^Livingston F . Jones, A Study of the Thlingets of Alaska (New York, 1914), p. 195. ^Meyer Fortes, The Dynamics of Clanship among the Tallensi (London, 1949), p. 177. ^Virginia Gutierrez de Pineda, Social Organization in La Guajira, translated from the Spanish for the Human Relations Area Files by Sydney Muirden (New Haven), p. 233. 23 The Isneg of the Philippines treat acts in precise ly the same manner. Vanoverberg writes that it Cthe Christian codej distinguishes an act done intentionally from one done involuntarily, it dif ferentiates culpable negligence and unavoidable accident. The Isneg code knows no such distinctions: an act is an act; the result is the only thing taken into consideration.4 Thus, for certain peoples of the world killing a person is wrong regardless of the circumstances involved. Such a view of homicide seems to indicate that the obliga tion not to kill is clearly recognized, and held in high regard. The fact that the killer often loses his life through blood-revenge or the employment of community sanc tions does not necessarily detract from a high regard for the obligation not to kill. To be sure, the thinking of the Ila of Northern Rhodesia seems to be nrost consistent with the obligation not to kill. Smith and Dale report that capital punishment is little used among the Ila. A native proverb explains the reason why. 'Any old pole will fill a hole in the fence,''which is to say: every member of a community has his ^Morice Vanoverbergh, The Isneg Life Cycle, Pub. of the Cath. Anthro. Conference, III, No. 2 (Washington, 1936-1938), p. 159. 24 value. . . . To kill a person because he has killed another is ridiculous; why make a bigger hole in the community?^ Yet, capital punishment is not necessarily incon sistent with the obligation not to kill. If the sanction of capital punishment is employed as a means toward deter ring death, then the obligation is most certainly recog nized and respected. In many cases, however, capital pun ishment deteriorates into sheer revenge for the sake of revenge. Under these circumstances the obligation not to kill moves far into the background to the point of dis appearing. As for the factual material, it does not always clearly indicate whether mere revenge is the motive for the killing or whether deterrence of further homicide is the motive. Motives usually must be inferred from the data, and in a good number of cases the best that can be said is that the motives are mixed. A question can be raised at this point as to why the cultures under consideration view homicide as repre hensible. The Ila proverb quoted by Smith and Dale throws ^Edwin W. Smith and Andrew Murray Dale, The I la - Speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia (London, 1920), II, 414. 25 some light on the subject. The proverb, besides emphasiz ing the reasonableness of not employing capital punishment, also emphasizes a very basic reason why homicide is wrong. Homicide deprives the community of its greatest asset--a member who contributes to its defense, economy, and con tinued existence. Thus, with reference to the Goajiro and Isneg, the statement that they consider only the act itself should not be taken to mean that the act of killing is the only matter taken into account. In fact, the quotation by Vanoverbergh stresses that the result of the act is the important thing. The basic point seems to be that whatever the circumstances of a homicide, the effect is always the same— death. To disregard circumstances simply means that much greater caution will be exercised with regard to the life of a community member. And as a consequence, the community will be less litcely to lose a valuable asset. Whatever the reasons may be for the wrongness of homicide, or whatever the sanctions employed and the motives for employing the sanctions, one fact stands out in bold outlines. It is the fact that, as a general rule, sanctions are not applied for killing persons outside the clan, tribe, or local group, and the killing of these 26 persons is usually treated with little concern. For exam ple, Smith and Dale observe concerning the Ila that a slave or a stranger may be killed with impunity.^ And Vanover- bergh, with reference to the Isneg, quotes as follows from the Isneg moral code: 'Headhunting is a glorious practice. If you are a real Isneg, you should take a few heads during your lifetime or at least help your companions in doing so. . . .If you have the opportunity to take the head of an enemy unawares, be it that of a woman or a child, there you have a splendid occa sion of becoming a . . . brave, without too much trouble and with very little danger.'7 Considering the fact that an enemy was often one who was simply a non-Isneg, and that killing women and children could hardly be considered acts of self-preservation, the Isneg could, without difficulty, be said to hold that homicide was wrong only if it involved an Isneg. In much the same vein, Middleton notes concerning the Mwimbi of Kenya that they "pay bloodmoney only for the O killing of a fellow Mwimbi, none for that of an outsider." ^Smith and Dale, pp. 413-4. ^Vanoverbergh, p. 171. 8John Middleton, The Central Tribes of the North- Eastern Bantu, in Ethnographic Survey of Africa: East Central Africa. Part V, ed. Daryll Forde (London, 1953), p. 44. 27 Of course, one could argue that the failure to apply sanc tions does not necessarily indicate a failure to hold to the wrongness of killing. This may be true in some cases, but in the absence of any evidence showing that killing an outsider is considered to be wrong, the most reasonable conclusion that can be drawn is that the absence of sanc tions probably indicates an absence or very slight sense of wrongness about killing an outsider. The dualistic approach, whereby people of the in- group--the clan, tribe, or community--are treated differ ently from people outside the in-group, is an extremely significant fact, which will be noted now only in passing, but to which reference will be made again and again. It will become the basis for some very important conclusions. Homicide within the Family and Clan The fact that a certain group, the in-group, is treated preferentially, leads to a consideration of homi cide within particularly closely knit in-groups such as the family and clan. In a great majority of cultures parents are held in high respect and honor. The murder of a parent, therefore, is generally considered to be exceedingly reprehensible. 28 Tran-Van-Trai underscores the severity of crimes against parents in Vietnam. For the legislator, the duty of respect is so great that an insult to grandfather, grandmother, father or mother constitutes 'the height of subversion and revolt,' and those who are guilty of this are there fore punished by strangulation 'until dead.' As for the crime of striking parents or grandparents, this is 'odious rebellion,' 'the height of subversion of human ties.' The guilty parties, as well as all accomplices, are all punished by decapitation. This penalty is increased in the case of murder, when slow death is the rule.^ Vietnam, of course, represents a culture dominated by the morality of Confucius. Yet, the respect required toward parents is not unique; it is paralleled in many other cultures. However, exceptions to the rule of high parental respect are to be found. Latcham observes concerning the Araucanos of Chile that parricide, infanticide, wife-murder, intentional abortion, and similar acts committed within the first rank of blood relations were not considered as crimes, it being held that these relations were of the same blood, and that it was allowable 9 Tran-Van-Trai, The Annamese Patriarchal Family, translated from the French for the Human Relations Area Files (to be referred to subsequently as HRAF) by C. A. Messner (New Haven), pp. 217-8. 29 for anyone to shed his own blood.^ Here the point seems to be that parental respect is not so important a value that parricide is viewed in an uncompro mising manner. Or put in another way, the right of a per son "to shed his own blood" is placed above the obligation not to kill a parent. Barton notes similar views among the Ifugao of -the Philippines. He states that parricide was not considered to be strictly wrong. He gives the example of a man, Limitit, who killed his father because the father was im poverishing the family. "The old man was Limitit's father, and Limitit had the right on that account to kill him if he wanted to; at least it was the business of nobody else."^ In Ifugao society the family takes precedence over the individual, and the father's actions were seen as imperil ing the family. Although Ifugao and Vietnamese societies cannot be exactly compared, one could easily say that in ■^Richard E. Latcham, "Ethnology of the Araucanos," Jour, of the Royal Anthro. Institute of Great Brit, and Ireland, XXXIX (1909), 356. 1 - 1 Roy Franklin Barton, Ifugao Law, U. of Cal. Publi cations in American Archaeology and Ethnology, XV, No. 1 (Berkeley, 1919), p. 120. 30 Vietnamese society the family also takes precedence over the individual. Yet, killing a father under the circum stances outlined above would be the grossest of crimes. In view of the preceding examples, a rather paradox ical situation seems to “ arise. On the one hand, it has been pointed out that the in-group receives preferential consideration. On the other hand, the cultural material indicates that in some instances the closer the in-group ties the more lax the attitude toward homicide, or at least the more lax the application of sanctions. Undoubtedly the failure to apply sanctions does not necessarily indicate a failure to consider homicide to be wrong. This fact is clearly emphasized by Dundas in his discussion of the Kamba of Kenya. It must appear as curious that relationship and clan ship tend to reduce the amount of compensation due, but this is largely because bloodmoney, being intended to replace by goods a life, and the slayer having an interest or share in that life, the amount is reduced accordingly as his share is greater or less. Thus a husband has sole share in his wife's person, and therefore he can compensate no one. From these facts we must, however, the more clearly perceive that compensation is not to be confounded with punishment, for it is least where the relationship is closest, and among people with whom the family bond is so 31 remarkably close we cannot assume that the slaying of a father or son is regarded as a minor offence. Indeed it is said that a parricide is doomed to die himself.^ Sanctions, then, may be absent, but homicide still considered a very serious crime. Yet, in some instances the failure to apply sanctions does raise questions about the exact status of the obligation not to kill. The Araucanians and Ifugao, cited above, appear to be cases in point. With regard to the Araucanos, Latcham continues his discussion of homicide between close relatives by not ing the husband-wife relationship. He states that the wife is considered the absolute property of the husband, and he can dispose of her as he thinks fit, even to killing her, without anyone interfering any more than they would at the dis posal of his other property. ^ Here it would be difficult to maintain that the obligation not kill is not recognized at all with respect to the wife. However, it can reasonably be said that the husband's prop erty rights in terms of his wife are given higher priority than the obligation not to kill her. ^Charles Dundas, "The Organization and Laws of Some Bantu Tribes in East Africa," Jour, of the Royal Anthro. Institute of Great Brit, and Ireland, XLV (1915), 266. ■^Latcham, p. 353. 32 Much the same viewpoint appears to have been present among the Comanches. Hoebel remarks that one type of killing which was not murder was the privilege of the husband to kill his wife. This is a variant of the purely in-group character of in group friction. For this there was no retaliation. It was the acknowledged right of the man, and no one would lift a finger to legal action.^ In a similar vein, Roscoe observes concerning the Ganda of Uganda that no punishment was inflicted on a man who speared his wife or slave to death. The relatives of the former would indeed investigate the matter (which had a deterring influence upon would-be wife slayers), but they were powerless to punish him, because the wife was his property.^ If a husband suspected his wife of unfaithfulness, he would often torture her until she confessed. The husband would not be punished by law, even if he killed his wife under such circumstances; her relations might have the case tried, but if it was proved that she was in the wrong, no one would condemn the husband. If the husband was proved to have unjustly tortured or killed his wife, her relations would be satisfied with fining him.-*-® ^Adamson E. Hoebel, "The Political Organization and Law-Ways of the Comanche Indians," Memoirs of the Amer. Anthro. Assn., No. 54 (1940), 73. ^John Roscoe, The Baganda. An Account of Their Native Customs and Beliefs (London, 1911), p. 20 16Ibid„, p. 263. 33 A final example of the right of the husband over the wife has to do with the Nuer of the Nilotic Sudan. Evans-Pritchard notes that the surface relationship between husband and wife is harmonious. I attribute this £the harmonious relationship^, in part at any rate, to the unchallenged authority of the husband in the home. A woman must obey her husband, and Nuer say that when he swears at her she must not answer back, and that he has the right to chastise her if she neglects her children or domestic duties. They told me that should he kill her (I have never heard of a case of the kind), whatever trouble his action may otherwise bring on him, he will not have to pay compensation, for she belongs to her husband's people and he only des troys what is his own, losing thereby both wife and the cattle he paid for her.^ In this case the husband seems to be considered more as a stupid and foolish fellow than as the perpetrator of an enormous crime. He has destroyed a useful object and lost the cattle he gave in payment. He does not seem to be looked upon as a person who has violated a fundamen tal moral obligation. Turning from the wife to the children, one notes the same variety in the data. On the one hand, many cul tures do not give the parent the prerogative to murder a ^Edward Evans-Pritchard, Kinship and Marriage among the Nuer (Oxford, 1951), p. 133. 34 child or even to commit abortion. Tran-Van-Trai states that for the Vietnamese, who place the parents in a posi tion of great authority and honor, the beating of a child which results in death or injury is punishable by beating and/or hard labor, except in the case where the child has been habitually insubordinate.^-® And Paques points out that among the Bambara of French West Africa "a woman who has an abortion is publicly whipped; when she causes an abor- 19 tion in another woman, she is condemned to death." On the other hand, Smith and Dale report that in fanticide is not an infrequent occurrence among the Ila of 20 Northern Rhodesia. And Musil notes that the Rwala of Syria consider that a father who has killed his child is 21 responsible to no one, since his child is his property. Here again, of course, the distinction between responsi bility and rightness must be observed. Yet, one is at least justified in saying that the right of property takes 18Tran-Van-Trai, op. cit., pp. 194-5. -^Viviana Paques, The Bambara, translated from the French for the HRAF by Thomas Turner (New Haven), p. 95. Smith and Dale, op. cit., p. 419. ^Alois Musil, The Manners and Customs of the Rwala Bedouins, Amer. Geog. Soc. Oriental Expeditions and Studies* No. b (New York, 1928), p. 495. 35 precedence over the obligation not to kill. To be sure, another matter also enters in, namely, the question of if and when a child is considered to be a person. The cul tural material does not always or even usually permit a definite answer to this question. With reference to the clan, the evidence seems to point universally to the heinousness of the crime of intra clan homicide. In numerous instances sanctions are not applied because, as was often the case with the family, the matter is considered to be the business of the clan alone. Fortes, speaking of the Tallensi of Ghana, states that no reprisals are made for intra-clan murder. It is consid ered to be as if "a cow has trampled her calf to death. However, the absence of sanctions does not mean an absence of revulsion to intra-clan murder, for the Tallensi do not consider such murder as either good or justifiable. In some instances of intra-clan homicide where sanctions are not applied, other measures are employed to point up the hideous nature of the crime. Butt notes that among the Luo of Kenya 99 ^■Fortes, op. cit., p. 265. 36 compensation is only paid for the killing of a tribesman, for men of other tribes, slain in war, raids or private conflict, are regarded as wasigu, enemies. On the other hand, compensation is not paid for killing a clansman, for such a deed is regarded as a sin, and propitiation and atonement have to be made.23 If the question is raised as to why overt, physical sanctions are often absent in cases of intra-clan homicide, the reply is that application of sanctions by the clan to clan members would only damage and weaken the clan. If the clan punished the murderer by death, it would be two per sons weaker rather than one. Or if the clan demanded economic compensation from the murderer, the clan, consid ered as a unit, would not be one whit wealthier. The clan, then, seems to place heavy emphasis on its concrete strength and/or wealth, and it is willing to exempt its members from sanctions in order that its strength and % wealth should not be further reduced. In fact, one could go on to say that the effects of homicide on the clan con stitute one of the primary grounds for homicide being wrong in the first place. The obligation not to kill does not ^Audrey Butt, The Luo of Kenya, in Ethnographic Survey of Africa; East Central Africa, Part IV, ed. Daryll Forde (London, 1952), p. 109. 37 seem to rest on an abstract consideration of the act of killing taken simply by itself. Homicide appears to be wrong basically because of the damage that it does to the in-group. Its wrongness is determined by a consideration of very concrete, utilitarian ends. In sum, the obligation not to kill is clearly recog nized as applying within the clan. As for the family, although as a general rule the obligation not to kill is given high priority, in a number of instances, one family member has the right to dispense with the life of another family member, the right of property having higher priority than the obligation not to kill. Homicide and Status One of the points that clearly emerge from the cul tural data is that the wrongness of killing depends largely on the status of the person killed and/or the status of the person committing the crime. This fact is clearly brought out by Morris in his discussion of the Lepcha of the Hima layan States. He notes the following levels of compensa tion for the crime of homicide. 38 The price for killing a gentleman who has 300 servants, or a superintendent of a district, or a lama professor, is 300 to 400 gold srang. For full lamas, government officers, and gentlemen with 100 servants the fine is 200 ounces of gold. For killing gentlemen who possess a horse and five or six servants, or working lamas the fine is 145 to 150 ounces of gold. For killing men of no rank, old lamas, or per sonal servants the fine is 80 ounces of gold. For killing unmarried men, servants, and butchers the price is 30 gold srang; and for killing black smiths and beggars, 10 to 20 ounces of gold.^ The assumption here is that differences in compen sation reflect, at least in part, differences in the severity of the crime of homicide. Smith and Dale report that among the Ila of Northern Rhodesia the heinousness of an assault depends upon the rela tive status of the men concerned. For a man to beat his slave to death is no crime, for a man to spear his nephew is no crime, but for a slave or an ordinary freeman to assault a chief in even a minor way . . „ is regarded as a serious offence.^-* Dubois, referring to the customs and laws of India, states that in countries governed by native princes Brahmins are rarely condemned to any serious corporal punishment; and however heinous their crimes may 2^John Morris, Living with Lepchas: A Book about the Sikkim Himalayas (London, 1938), p. 33. 25Smith and Dale, op. cit., p. 413. 39 be, they are never liable to the penalty of death. The murder of a Brahmin, no matter for what reason, would be considered absolutely unpardonable, for it is the greatest of all known crimes.^6 The treatment of women is especially revealing as to the importance of status and/or function. Durham observes that among certain natives of Albania blood-gelt, if any, for a woman is very small. The tribe does not punish the murderer [as in the case of a male murder] ; it is purely a family affair. The death of a woman does not weaken the tribe, for she is of another blood and can easily be replaced from without; whereas a man cannot be replaced.^7 Kenyatta remarks that among the Kikuyu of Kenya compensation for a man is 100 sheep or goats or 10 cows, whereas for a woman it is 30 sheep or goats or 3 cows. The distinction is made on the basis of the contribution 28 that each makes to the group. On the other hand, the Ngonde of Tang any ilea conceive the function of woman to be very great. Therefore, they consider the murder of a woman to be more serious than that 26j. a . Dubois, Hindu Manners, Customs and Cere monies (Oxford, 1906), pp. 177-8. 27 Edith M. Durham, Some Tribal Origins, Laws and Customs of the Balkans (London, 1928), p. 69. 2®Jomo Kenyatta, Facing Mount Kenya: The Tribal Life of the Gikuyu (London, 1953), pp. 228-9. 40 of a man. "It is more heinous to murder a woman than a man, for the woman, being dead, bears no more children, 29 and loss to the community results. The relation of status to the seriousness of the crime of homicide can be further observed in the practices of compensation among the Tlingit of Alaska. Oberg notes that theoretically, crime against an individual did not exist. The loss of an individual by murder, the loss of property by theft, or shame brought to a member of a clan, were clan losses and the clan demanded an equivalent in revenge. That is to say, if a man of low rank killed a man of high rank in another clan, the murderer often went free while one of his more important kinsmen suffered death in his stead.30 The point to note here is not merely that the seriousness of the crime varies with rank, with compensation being governed strictly by the law of equals for equals, but that the loss of a person is serious because and to the degree that it affects the clan. Again, the wrongness of homicide seems to depend basically, if not entirely in this case, on the unfavorable consequences to the clan. r . Mackenzie, The Spirit-Ridden Konde (London, 1925), p. 88o 30 Kalervo Oberg, "Crime and Punishment in Tlingit Society," Amer. Anthro., XXXVI, No. 2 (1934), 146. 41 In sum, the seriousness of homicide varies in many cultures with the status of the persons involved. The sig nificant point in all this is that the obligation not to kill seems to be viewed in terms of the concrete value of a person to the tribe or clan. A person9s worth depends on his status, position, or function in the society. The person who has a high status and/or is considered important or indispensable to the society has a higher value placed on him. The result is that to destroy this person of higher worth is to commit a more serious crime than to destroy a person of lesser worth and importance. The con clusion to be reached is not necessarily that certain concrete in-group values are the only factors considered in determining the obligation not to kill, for one can never conclusively demonstrate that certain factors are the only factors considered. However, it does seem safe to say that concrete, immediate consequences to the in-group are of major, indeed, crucial importance in determining whether and to what degree a person is under an obligation not to kill. 42 The Concrete and the Immediate The fact that status, position, and/or function in the community are often central factors in determining the seriousness of the crime of homicide emphasizes the very important point that most primitive peoples appear to think in immediate, concrete terms. This very pragmatic mode of thinking, particularly as it affects the determination of obligation, can be seen even more clearly in the following examples. Smith and Dale note concerning the Ila of Northern Rhodesia that they have little regard for life as life. Rather they stress the immediate consequences of homicide-- the consequences to the clan, the communal god, the per- 31 son's ghost, or the hidden forces of nature.. And one could go on to say that the stress is also on the concrete consequences, even in the case of the religious factors; for among primitive people generally, the gods, a person's ghost or the hidden forces of nature are considered to have very measurable, specific effects on the tribe or clan. 31 Smith and Dale, op. cit. , p. 414. 43 Moreover, it would be maintained that the religious factors do not represent primary, independent factors, but factors that are secondary and reflective, factors designed to reinforce basic reactions to clan losses. The immediate concrete clan losses are the fundamental consideration. This viewpoint, namely, that religious factors are often secondary and reflective, will be alluded to again in the next chapter. Evans-Pritchard, discussing the Azande of the Bel gian Congo, speaks specifically of the pragmatic nature of native morality. If you hate your neighbour without due cause you disclose a weak character, and people will despise you and will not associate with you. If you slan der your neighbour without cause you will get a bad name, people will say that you are a liar, and the chief will not believe you when you come to make a case before him.32 Of course, this statement by Evans-Pritchard does not necessarily set forth the basic reasons why hating a neigh bor and lying are wrong. It only gives the reasons why these actions should not be done. However, the reasons ■^Edward Evans-Pritchard, "Witchcraft (Mangu) among the A-ZandeSudan Notes and Records, XII (Kh£££9Um, 1929), p» 211. 44 given for discouraging actions are often very revealing about the real reasons why actions are considered to be wrong. The concrete, immediate consequences of an action, in this case homicide, are clearly determinative of the wrongness of the action among the Nuer of the Nilotic Sudan. Howell reports that among these people homicide is not considered a crime against society; rather its wrong ness is relative to the groups involved. There are therefore two reactions present; first, the reaction of the kinsmen of the slain, which is a reaction of indignation at personal loss, reduction in their numbers, and the damage to the continuity of their group; and this finds further expression in religious concepts associated with the kinship group. The second reaction is that of the killer's group, who demand that, in their own interests as well as his own, he shall perform those rites of expiation which will neutralize the effects of spiritual contamination emanating from the spirits associated with the dead man's kin. They may also express disapproval of his action, for he has brought upon them not only spiritual dangers, but the threat of violence, and more probably the loss of the cattle which they will have to pay to restore the peace and regain their security.33 Thus, the reactions of indignation and disapproval p. Howell, A Manual of Nuer Law (London, 1954), p. 207. 45 appear to relate entirely to the immediate consequences of homicide on the kinship groups of the slain and slayer respectively. The central importance of the immediate, concrete consequences of homicide on the kinship group of the slain can be further observed by the practices of com pensation among the Shilluk, neighbors of the Nuer. It is, however, probably safe to say that among the Shilluk homicide is a private delict requiring the restoration of equilibrium by the payment of com pensation in cattle. The main object of such payment is to marry a wife into the kinship group of the deceased--rather than individually to the name of the deceased--and thus ensure its continuity and increase, which have been interrupted by the removal of one of its members. . . . In principle, there are here no profound differences between the Shilluk and their Nuer and Dinka n e i g h b o r s . ^ In other words, homicide is essentially seen as creating a gap in a kinship group. As a result, compensa tion is not aimed at inflicting punishment for the commis sion of a grave moral wrong, but at closing the gap in the kinship group. To be sure, practices of compensation do not tell the whole story about the feelings, reactions, and beliefs surrounding homicide. However, the purposes of compensation usually tell something, often a great deal, about the major reasons why an action is considered to be 3^Howell, "Observations on the Shilluk of the Upper Nile," Africa, XXII (1952), 118. 46 wrong. Views of homicide and compensation, similar to the Nuer and their neighbors, appear to be present in a number of other groups. For example, certain tribes of Jordan required that compensation in the form of camels, a girl or a rifle be made for homicide. The significance of these items was that the murderer had deprived the victim's family of a valuable asset in the form of a fighting man. The bloodmoney was intended to make good the loss.35 Winstedt, in discussing the Menangkaban tribe of Malaya, points out that when a person important in the life and economy of the tribe was murdered, the requirement was that another person be given to the tribe.^6 Stress upon the immediate, concrete value of the murdered person to the tribe is here very evident. The Navajo likewise stressed the immediate value of the person--in this case, to the family. Van Valkenburgh 35j0hn Bagot Glubb, The Story of the Arab Legion (London, 1948), p. 177. 36sir Richard Winstedt, The Malays. A Cultural History (New York, 1950), p. 93. 47 states: We find that the basis of Navajo thought in regard to homicide is first that of payment. The human being, having an economic value to the family, has been taken away, and thus, for this loss, the family should receive recompense in tangible goods [although direct revenge is practiced at times j. . . . We must remember that the basic root of the greater part of the Navajo culture is wealth, and that such controls the general behavior of the people.37 Primitive people, then, generally seem to think in terms of the immediate, concrete consequences of an action. What this means with reference to homicide is that the immediate, concrete losses to the family and clan have singular importance, not merely in considerations of com pensation, but also in considerations aimed at determining the wrongness of the act. Whether or not the immediate, concrete consequences are the only factors taken into ac count in determining the wrongness of homicide can again not be conclusively established. However, the material is lacking in evidence that would point to any other conclu sion than that the obligation not to kill is based solely upon the evaluation of immediate, concrete consequences, 37 Richard Van Valkenburgh, "Navaho Common Law II: Navaho Law and Justice," Museum Notes: Museum of Northern Arizona, IX (1937), 53. 48 particularly the consequences to the in-group. Homicide of Slaves The preceding discussion has repeatedly emphasized the fact that the severity of the crime of homicide is basically determined by the in-group status and function of the persons involved. This fact is even more clearly ob served as one considers the homicide of slaves, a subject which also touches on another matter already mentioned, namely, the treatment of persons outside the in-group. Besides the fact that the murder of a slave some times goes u n p u n i s h e d , or, if punished, receives lesser penalities than the murder of a regular citizen,39 slaves are also often used as human sacrifices. Buck, commenting on the Maori of New Zealand, states that "a deceased high chief was sometimes honoured by the killing of a slave that his spirit might accompany that of his master to serve him on his last journey."^ Buck continues by noting that 3®See the above quotation of Roscoe, p. 32, and that of Smith and Dale, p. 38. 39see the above quotation of Morris, p. 38. ^Peter Buck, The Coming of the Maori (Wellington, 1952), p. 429. 49 slaves were also used in sacrifices for other religious and social purposes (p. 486). Childs reports that among the Mbundu of Angola each king must inaugurate his reign with a war, during or after which he must ceremonially 'eat the old one' . . . a feast consisting of the flesh of a specially fattened slave.^ Kennedy mentions an important qualification to the general rule that slaves or war prisoners are the source of personnel for human sacrifices. He observes that among the natives of Borneo, if a human sacrifice is to be made, the victims are not the hereditary slaves of the community, that is, the inferior people raised in the community, but rather fresh war captives or persons purchased from outside 42 the local group. In other words, a person who has been brought up in the community, even though he is from a group which is considered inferior or hostile, somehow gains status and value as he becomes integrated into the commun ity . This fact seems to contradict quite conclusively ^•ksiadwyn Murray Childs, Umbundu Kinship and Character (London, 1949), p. 21. ^Raymond Kennedy, The Ageless Indies (New York, 1942), p. 93. 50 the suggestion that might be made to the effect that indi viduals not included within the in-group are treated in a different manner because they are not considered to be human beings or persons. An individual certainly does not gain humanity or personhood just by staying in a village and/or becoming integrated into it. A better explanation is the very simple one that a person who remains in a community and becomes integrated into it acquires utility, and possibly even becomes an object of affection. Thus, the person gains a degree of value, and cannot be easily dispensed with. Generally speaking, the cultural material indicates that persons outside the in-group, although often consid ered to be inferior, are not on that account considered to be non-human. In numerous instances prisoners captured in war are adopted by the warriors, often becoming full- fledged members of the captor tribe. A case in point is the Ngoni of Nyasaland. Barnes notes that warfare, not domesticity, was the right and proper occupation of the Ngoni. Wars were essentially a means toward obtaining cap tives, although cattle were also prized. The life of out siders was highly expendable, and many were killed in the 51 raids. Yet, the outsiders were certainly not considered to be less than human, for captives taken by the Ngoni were rapidly indoc trinated with Ngoni ways and themselves became proud Ngoni; Ngoni complain that now, although , captured by Europeans, they never become Europeans. The question still remains, however, as to the significance of the fact that slaves and/or war prisoners are used for human sacrifice. The immediate significance seems to be that the obligation with respect to the out sider is just not the same as the obligation with respect to the in-group member. In the case of the former, the duty not to kill is outweighed by the duty (if there is such) to offer human sacrifices. In the case of the latter, this is not so. A further question might be raised as to whether or not the duty to the gods can be reasonably said to justify killing in the case of human sacrifices. In some cases of human sacrifice, a clear recognition of the obligation not to kill an outsider would undoubtedly deter the sacrifice; for example, in the case where a slave is sacrificed in order that he might accompany his master ^J. a . Barnes, Politics in a Changing Society (London, 1954), p. 298. 52 on his last journey. But what about the cases where a slave is specifically sacrificed to and for the gods? This question will be discussed in the next chapter. Homicide of Strangers and Other Outsiders The above section on the treatment of slaves serves as a helpful introduction to a more extensive examination of the practices with regard to persons who are not members of the in-group. In the ensuing discussion it should be kept in mind that the outsider is probably, in most in stances, classed as another person, as a human being. Smith and Dale note that among the Ila of Northern Rhodesia strangers can be killed with impunity, even though the Ila seem to have a sense of general bad luck for shed ding blood.^ Johnson observes that the Ijebu, a tribe of the Yoruba people of Nigeria were, before the conquest, the most exclusive and in hospitable of the tribes. Very few, if any, out siders were ever known to have walked through the country with impunity under any circumstances whatever; not a few of those who attempted to do ^Smith and Dale, op. cit., p. 414. 53 so were never seen nor heard of any more.^ Williams reports the following as the attitudes the Orokaiva of New Guinea had toward strangers and foreigners. There was no idea of sporting equality of chance when the Orokaiva was bent on killing. I have already given one or two random instances in which the solitary stranger was put to death as a matter of course. It may be fairly doubted whether a party of primitive Orokaiva meeting a lone stranger would hesitate to kill him any more than they would hesitate to kill a bush-pig. Nor does the warrior think it beneath his dignity to kill a woman. One Is surprised at the pride which a man evidently takes in the slaughter of defenceless victims. The murder of a stranger is not any more serious for the Rwala of Syria. Musil states: When a guest is found killed, the person find ing him reports it to the host with whom he stayed in the last three and a third days, who is bound to make a search for the murderer. If it is proved that the deed was committed by a fellow tribesman of the host, the latter will compe1 him to pay the blood price. If the murderer was a stranger, the host will simply send word to his relatives: 'Your brother was killed by So-and-So.1 After sunrise of the fourth day the host's duty of protection terminates, and he himself may then attack and rob his departed guest.47 Here the obligation not to kill a stranger seems to ^%rancis E. Williams, Orokaiva Society (London, 1930), p. 161. ^Musil, pp. cit. (above, note 21), p. 465. 54 be practically non-existent. Or more accurately, it seems to hinge entirely on the obligation of hospitality. When this obligation ceases, so does the obligation not to kill the stranger. Routledge and Routledge, speaking of the Kikuyu of Kenya, state that the fact that the stranger has eaten his [the Kikuyu's] food and is sleeping in his hut is no sufficient reason why he should not murder him, if for any reason such a course seems desirable. Conversely, the stranger who has sought and been accorded hospitality feels himself under no moral obligation to refrain from treacherously taking the life of his host.^® This very general statement concerning the Kikuyu must be modified to a certain extent in view of a statement by Dundas, who reports the practices of the Kikuyu in greater detail. He remarks: If a Mkamba kills a foreigner in Ukamba he must pay full bloodmoney to the Mkamba with whom the stranger lived, if he was an adopted son (i.e.* if his host had bought him a wife), other wise only four cows are paid, or two only if the stranger was not able-bodied. In Theraka and among the Ndia Kikuyu the life of a stranger must be compensated, even though he was staying with ^®W. Scoresby Routledge and Katherine Routledge, With a Prehistoric People: The Akikuyu of British East Africa (London, 1910), p. 247. 55 the one claiming only for one day. In Ukaraba, Theraka, and Ndia, if a stranger kills anyone his host must under all circumstances pay full bloodmoney. Among other sections of the Akikuyu, bloodmoney for murder of, or by, a stranger can only be claimed if the stranger was fully adopted by the claimant, or if he had entered into blood-brotherhood with a member of the family.^ Here the important modification, besides the fact that some tribes require full or partial compensation for the homicide of strangers, is that compensation is usually --one might say, always--required if the stranger stands in a special relationship to his host--that of adopted son or blood-brother. In other words, adoption and blood- brotherhood change one's obligation with respect to the stranger. The situation in this case appears to be similar to that of the slave who has been adopted into the tribe or has grown up in the tribe. Through adoption or blood- brotherhood an outsider enters into a position with rights and privileges similar to the in-group member. Looked at from another standpoint, it might be said that a person does not seem to receive the rights and privileges of the ^ D u n d a s # op. cit. (above, note 12), pp. 266-7. 56 in-group members unless ceremonially or otherwise he has come to be considered as a part of the in-group or closely related to it. This point will be considered in more de tail in the next chapter. The examples given thus far relating to the homicide of outsiders have stressed the fact that persons not in cluded within the in-group are often killed without com punction. The examples to follow will illustrate this same fact but, in addition, will stress the further fact that the taking of life is in some instances either a means to acceptance or a mark of distinction. Plaut observes that homicide among the Formosan Aborigines results in exile, which happens to be considered a very severe form of punishment. However, head-hunting offers him [the exiledjan opportunity to win this permission £to return]. If he succeeds in capturing a Chinese head, he sends it to the tribe as a sign of victory, and then some time later he may return home without being in danger. Westermarck reports the following views of homicide among the Rifians of the Ait Waryager. ^Hermann Plaut, "Contributions to the Knowledge of the Island of Formosa," translated from the German for the HRAF (New Haven), p. 40. 57 An ordinary manslayer is not considered unclean, not is he blamed for his deed. They admit that murder was forbidden by the Prophet and that a murderer will go to hell; but if he says his prayers and gives alms and invites scribes to recite the Koran he is likely to get rid of his sin, and besides, a Rifian is not much afraid of hell. Whatever religion may say on the matter, a man who has not taken anybody's life before he is married is not considered a man. When a young fellow has for the first time killed a person he goes to the next market at the head of his family, dressed in his best clothes and wearing a new bag . . . and he wears it not on his left side, as usual, but on his right, to announce to all people what he has done and to show that now he is a man. This is done whether the homicide took place in revenge or not. But though ordinary homicide is admired, it is considered very bad to kill a scribe without sufficient reason because of his knowledge of the Koran, and it is also considered bad, though not in the same degree, to kill an unoffending shereef on account of his holy parentage.5^ Now this example raises the interesting question as to when an obligation can be considered to be a real obli gation, recognized as such by a specific people. The Rifians, for example, admit theoretically that homicide is a sin, being forbidden by the Koran. Yet, apparently their religious faith has become somewhat superficial, as is evidenced by their unconcern about hell. The result is -^Edward Westermarck, Ritual and Belief in Morocco (London, 1926), II, 57. 58 that a whole new set of standards is emerging, a set of standards which brings admiration to a murderer. These Rifians, then, stand in the transitional phase where the theoretical commitment to an ancient obligation has prac tically lost all its meaning. One could, with reason, say that the obligation not to kill is almost without recogni tion, except in the case of the scribe and shereef. At the very least one could say that the value associated with killing another person is placed above the obligation not to kill that person. Silas, commenting on the Trobriand Islanders, states that killing a man is often an accomplishment accompanied by pride. If the owner of a house has killed a man, for example, he is entitled to paint the posts of his home with a red paint made with a mixture of coco-nut oil and clay, and this is a distinction much sought after. At Port Moresby, some years ago, a prominent native built himself a house and then looked anxiously around for someone to kill in order that he might complete the scheme of decoration. He called upon his friends to assist him in the matter— a little courtesy which, in Papuan etiquette, it would have been impolite to refuse. He gave a party, inviting his friends to come and "roast some sago." The elder men knew well enough that this phrase was a euphemism, and they carefully brought their clubs with them. But one of the younger men did not under stand the purport of the message: he arrived unarmed, and was advised to go back for a weapon. Unfortunate 59 ly for himself, he did so. He fetched his club, and in the ensuing celebration he used it to such pur pose upon the head of a white man that he eventually found himself sentenced to a considerable period of imprisonment.^2 In sum, the evidence relating to strangers and foreigners seems to point rather clearly to the fact that the obligation not to kill is barely, if at all, recognized in the case of strangers and foreigners. However, the suggestion might be made that outsiders are killed with so little concern simply because outsiders are regarded as hostile persons, as enemies. There is a great deal of truth in this suggestion. For example, Monteil notes the following concerning the Bambara of French West Africa. In the mind of the native, a foreigner is particu larly dangerous because he is assumed to possess mysterious magic powers. Many Sudanese legends bear witness to the Black's belief that encounters with foteigners are accompanied by combats whose outcome depends entirely on magic. As a result of this state of mind, as soon as it is apparent that the stranger's cult brings no calamities in its wake, not only is the cult tolerated, but some of the natives adopt it, at first as a kind of addi tion to their own cults and then gradually they become converts.53 "^Ellis Silas, A Primitive Arcadia (London, 1926), p. 60. ^Charles Monteil, The Bambara of Segou and Kaarta. translated from the French for the HRAF by Kathryn A. Looney (New Haven), p. 370. 60 Marshall, reporting on the Kung, a tribe of the Bushmen of South Africa, states that "they are timid and apprehensive of strangers. Their word for stranger is ju 54 dole. Ju means person, dole means strange or harmful. Malinowski makes the following observation concern ing the Trobrianders. Coming on a customary and peaceful errand, why should they have any apprehensions of danger, and develop a special magical apparatus to meet the natives of Dobu? This is a logical way of reason ing, but custom is not logical, and the emotional attitude of man has a greater sway over custom than has reason. The main attitude of a native to other, alien groups is that of hostility and mistrust. The fact that to a native every stranger is an enemy is an ethnographic feature reported from all parts of the world.^5 However, many groups practice hospitality toward strangers, and in a number of these groups hospitality is practiced even though suspicions concerning strangers are fairly intense. For example, Karsten, commenting on the Jivaro of Ecuador, states that it is easy to see that behind the strict Indian 'etiquette9 and the apparent courtesy there is a good deal of the suspiciousness and distrust which these savages generally entertain towards one another. An Indian, seemingly coming as a friend, may in reality be a foe plotting evil; above all 5 5 Bronislaw Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific, (London, 1922), p. 345. 61 56 his bewitching secret arrows are feared. Yet, "etiquette" prevails. Therefore, it would be maintained that even if a stranger is regarded with grave suspicions, this is not by any means adequate grounds for dispensing with him in an unconcerned manner. Recognition of the obligation not to kill a stranger would require caution in terms of the stranger, not his wanton destruction. This is especially true in situations where the stranger is alone, unarmed, a female, a child, or obviously without hostile intent. In fact, under these circumstances the word 'enemy,' if it is to be applied to the stranger at all, reduces almost en tirely to the word 'foreigner,' and consequently, Malinow ski's general statement that natives universally consider strangers to be enemies needs qualification. The conclu sion seems to be that in many cultures the obligation not to kill is, for all intents and purposes, non-existent with respect to strangers and foreigners. If the obliga tion is recognized, its recognition is so slight that it 56 Rafael Karsten, The Head-Hunters of Western Ama zonas , Societus Scieniarum Fennica: Commentationes Human- arum Literarum, VII, No. 1 (Helsingfors, 1935), p. 247. is practically without significance. 62 In-Group-Centrism The fact that homicide is strictly banned within the in-group, but is often treated very permissively with regard to strangers and foreigners, points to the conclu sion that the obligation not to kill is clearly recognized in relation to the in-group member, but is only dimly, if at all, recognized in relation to the outsider. Thus, the in-group member seems to hold a preferred status in terms of the obligation not to kill, as well as practically any other obligation that might be mentioned. In other words, many people appear to have a dual ethical system----one ethic for themselves, and one for outsiders. Murphy, using the Munduructf Indians of Brazil as a point of reference, emphasizes the universality of the dualistic approach to ethics. He observes that the Mundurucdi Indians, an aboriginal people of central Brazil, share with most of mankind a propensity to apply one moral standard to relation ships among themselves and quite another to their conduct towards the rest of humanity. One may say 57 that this phenomenon is universal. Now the significance of the dual ethic becomes clear only as moral obligation is viewed in terms of its function within the in-group. Reference has already been made to the fact that very concrete considerations deter mine primarily, if not wholly, the wrongness of the crime of homicide. One of the concrete considerations that ap peared to have crucial importance was that having to do with the effect of homicide on the in-group. As a matter of fact, a crime, any crime, seems to be serious just to the extent that it adversely affects the life of the in group. This point merits further illustration. Hasluck states concerning certain tribes in Albania that some aspects of murder also engaged their attention. The actual crime and revenge for it were the concern only of the families of the murderer and his victim. But it was the concern of the village that the range of revenge should not spread, increasing the number of avenging assassinations and so disturbing the village peace. ^Robert Murphy, "Mundurucu Indians, A Dual System of Ethics," in Encyclopedia of Morals, ed. Vergilius Ferm (New York, 1956), p. 369. ^Margaret Hasluck, The Unwritten Law of Albania (Cambridge, 1954), p. 162. 64 In other words, village or in-group peace is a value taking priority over the right to revenge. Hasluck goes on to state that crimes which were thought to strike at the roots of community life were especially grave. A man sentenced to communal expulsion was always one whose crime struck at the roots of society as understood in the mountains. Perhaps he had violated the acknowledged sanctity of the 'pledged word' by killing his enemy during a public truce or even after making peace with him. Perhaps he had infringed the sacred laws of hospitality by killing his host or guest. Perhaps he threatened family solidarity by killing a cousin to get his land. (p. 244) Thus, community considerations altogether changed the nature of a crime, as can be seen by the fact that although killing one's enemy was not ordinarily punished by the community, it was severely punished if it was in violation of the pledged word or the views of hospitality, matters which were considered to be central to the continuous, peaceful functioning of the community. Mackenzie notes that the Ngonde of Tanganyika look upon witchcraft as the most serious of crimes, because witchcraft is thought to be a crime against the whole com- 59 munity. 59 Mackenzie, op. cit. (above, note 29), p. 90. 65 Howell observes that Nuer laws relating to homicide are directed toward the maintenance of an equilibrium in the society. The point to note is that the laws are appar ently not based on a concept of the wrongness of taking another life, but on the value of tribal equilibrium. Middleton reports that among the Kikuyu of Kenya a social-religious ceremony is the place where compensation is made for homicide. The compensation is handed over at the mugio cere mony, which includes, besides the actual transfer of blood-money, a ritual appeasement of the ances tors and a reconciliation of the two clans, which would otherwise be unable to have further social intercourse with one another.^ Here again the object is obviously the preservation of social peace. Thus, the in-group seems to have fundamental and crucial significance in determining whether something is wrong, and how serious a wrong it is. This fact, taken in conjunction with the fact that the in-group member has a preferred status in terms of moral obligations, points to 60Howell, op. cit. (above note 33), p. 59. 6lMiddleton, op. cit. (above, note 8), p. 45. j - . 66 the conclusion that the central value among the cultures of the world is the preservation and maintenance of the in group. If the preservation and maintenance of the in-group is the central value, then it is very natural that anything seriously threatening the life of the in-group will be looked upon with extreme disfavor, and that the life of the in-group member will be valued above the life of the out sider. In addition, it would be expected that the goals of the in-group would receive fundamental and unquestioned commitment from the in-group member, a fact which is evi denced throughout the cultures of the world. One of the most interesting examples of this fact comes from the Tlin- git of Alaska. Oberg states that among these people the concept of revenge prevailed; a form of revenge, as noted earlier, which required an exact equivalent for the mur dered. If a man of one rank were killed in one clan, a man of equal rank must be killed in the other, even if he did not commit the crime. The man selected as a compensation prepared to die willingly. He was given much time to prepare him self through fasting and praying. The execution took place before his house. ^^Oberg, op. cit. (above, note 30), p. 147. In other words, the successful functioning of the Tlingit community sometimes required the execution of one community member for another; and the Tlingit person willingly sub mitted to the execution. Here is an example of unques tioned, fundamental commitment to the community and its way of life. Variety in the Obligation Not to Kill If the in-group is central in determining obliga tions, then one would expect that a particular obligation, such as the obligation not to kill, would vary according to the function that it had in terms of the in-group, and that, as a consequence, a substantial degree of variety in the obligation would be found throughout the cultures of the world. As the cultural material abundantly illustrates, substantial variety is found. To begin with, the obliga tion not to kill varies within a culture according to the persons involved. In many cultures a dual ethic was ob served, in terms of which a person has an obligation not to kill one class of individuals (in-group members) under a certain set of circumstances, while he does not have the obligation to another class of persons (outsiders) under the same set of circumstances. Further, in numerous cul tures the seriousness of homicide was seen to vary accord ing to the status or function in the culture of the persons involved. The obligation not to kill also varies between cultures as to the persons it applies to and the conditions under which it applies. What one culture considers to be justifiable homicide, another does not. Or stated differ ently, the precise relationship that the obligation not to kill sustains to other obligations and values varies greatly from culture to culture. One is reminded, for ex ample, of the cultures where property rights regarding slaves or close kin take precedence over the obligation not to kill these classes of persons. To be sure, one must be careful when speaking of inter-cultural variety, for an obligation does not neces sarily have the same meaning in one society as in another. Social structure, values, and religious beliefs all play an important part in determining the precise nature of an obligation. Thus, killing a parent in a Confucian society would be highly reprehensible under almost any circum stances imaginable. However, in Chuckchee society the killing of a parent is a painful, but humane and beneficent duty. The reason is that a Chuckchee believes that a man 63 will continue forever in the state he is when he dies. How, then, is Chuckchee society to be compared with Con fucian society? The best that can be done is to make a comparison by means of a contrary to fact conditional. For example, one could ask: What would a person from a Confucian society do if he believed, as does the Chuckchee, that a person continues forever in the state he is when he dies? The answer is not too clear, but one would suppose that the duty to kill the parent would be too painful for the Confucian to perform. In other words, the duty not to kill a parent would carry such weight that it would over ride any duty that might exist with reference to sending one's parents into the hereafter in a fairly adequate state of health and vigor. The comparison between Chuckchee and Confucian societies is rather difficult. Other comparisons are more straight-forward. For example, a comparison was made be tween Confucian and Ifugao societies.^ In this case, it ^ranz Boas, Anthropology and Modern Life (New York, 1928), p. 186. 6^See above, pp. 11, 12. 70 was concluded with a degree of certainty that the Confu cian would probably not tolerate the homicide of a parent under the conditions that were tolerated by the Ifugao. Further comparisons could be made with equal certainty. For example, one would not hesitate in saying that our society would not allow the homicide of a stranger, even if the stranger were thought to have evil intent. In addition, our society would not allow the homicide of a slave, or exact less compensation for a blacksmith than for a nobleman or other person of similar importance. Generally speaking, then, the proposition holds that even after the differing circumstances within differ ent cultures have been carefully taken into account, great variety still exists in terras of the claim that the obli gation not to kill has on a specific person under a speci fic set of circumstances. CHAPTER II CUSTOMS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO WARFARE The cultural material relating to homicide led to a number of very significant general observations. To begin with, a dual ethic was evidenced in a great number of societies. In addition, a substantial degree of variety existed from culture to culture in terms of the conditions under which an individual was bound by the obligation not to kill. Further, immediate, concrete values appeared to be crucial in the determination of the obligation. This fact pointed up, not merely the concrete orientation of the primitive mind, but even more importantly, the funda mental significance of the concrete value of the preserva- tion and maintenance of the in-group. These observations find added support in the data relating to warfare. Reasons for Warfare Self-defense. The peoples of the world seem to go 71 72 to war for practically every reason imaginable. A much too infrequent reason is that of self-defense. The con cept of warring only or principally in self-defense is illustrated by the Tucuna of Amazonia. Nimuendaju states that the Tucuna are not warlike. They defended themselves against the Omagua, their principal enemies, and drove them to the banks of the Solimoes River only when the latter had invaded their lands. . . . They did not take prisoners or keep trophies from slain enemy. They never fought civilized people, except to avenge insults.1 Thus, the Tucuna fight essentially in self-defense, the exception being the avenging of insults, apparently of a serious nature. Theirs is a conservative stance of reac tion rather than aggressive action. Such a stance would seem to be most consistent with the general obligation not o to kill. It is a stance, however, which, in view of the other cultures of the world, appears to be the exception rather than the rule. And although the data being examined deals basically with so-called primitive or uncivilized -kkirt Nimuendaju, The Tucuna, University of Calif. Pub. in Amer. Archaeology and Ethnology, XLV (Berkeley, 1952), p. 721. ^By 9general obligation not to kill* is meant here and subsequently 9 the obligation not to kill anybody.1 societies, an examination of civilized societies would certainly not measurably alter the picture. Wealth and the extension of power. Two of the principal reasons for war among many peoples are the acqui sition of wealth and/or scarce items, and the extension of political power. Monteil observes that "the usual way to make a for tune among the people L the Bambara of French West Africa 3 q was through armed pillageJ According to Wilson, cattle stealing was one of the prime motives for war among the Ngonde of Tanganyika.^ And the important point to note is that the Ngonde did not need cattle to exist, for they not only had various crops, like cereals and bananas, but they also had various ani mals, such as goats, sheep, dogs, and chickens."^ East remarks concerning the Tiv of Nigeria that sometimes, even if there were no questions of a debt, a number of warriors from one clan would lie in wait ^Charles Monteil, The Bambara of S^gou and Kaarta, translated from the French for the HRAF by Kathryn A. Looney (New Haven), p. 342. ^Monica Wilson, Good Company (London, 1951), p. 151. -“ George Peter Murdock, Africa: Its Peoples and Their Culture History (New York, 1959), p. 360. 74 for some members of another clan who were passing through their territory and attack them without any provocation at all, killing some and capturing others.6 The common reason for such unprovoked violence was the desire to loot the victims. Looting and political domination were principal motives for warfare among the Rundi of the Belgian Congo. Maquet makes a very significant observation in his discus sion of these motives. From the Ruanda point of view this policy of imperialism and looting did not require any rationalization. Their ethical obligations were limited to in-group relationships. One could not kill, steal from, or harm another Ruanda, but a foreigner was fair game. Ruanda people thought themselves to be quite different from people of other tribes, their land was the most important in the world and the country where Imano (the high god) came home every evening and spent the night. It was consistent with these beliefs to use out-group people for one's own purposes without the need for further justifi cation .7 In this quotation Maquet rather clearly stresses the in-group limitation of the ethics of the Rundi. In ^Rupert East, ed. Akiga8s Story: The Tiv Tribe as Seen by One of Its Members (London, 1939), pp. 380-1. 7Jacques Maquet, The Premise of Inequality in Ruanda (London, 1961), p. 116. 75 addition, he describes their feeling of superiority, a feeling which had nothing to do with the humanness of the other peoples. The outsiders were, to be sure, human be ings. They were just not the chosen, superior human beings that the Rundi were. And somehow being a chosen, superior human being justified a high-handed treatment of the out siders. Obviously such a high-handed treatment of outsid ers can hardly be justified in terms of the. general obli gation not to kill, regardless of what is believed about one's select status as a human being. Kramer and Nevermann, commenting on the people of the Marshall Islands, state that formerly wars were waged only to conquer islands or to exterminate the male members of a chief's family, but after Kotzebue's first visit, they were waged also to steal valuable goods, such as iron.^ Dobrizhoffer remarks that the Abipones [of Argentina], whome [sic] the desire of booty or glory induces to be constantly scheming war against others, are, in consequence never free from suspicions of machinations against themselves.9 ^Augustin Kramer and Hans Nevermann, Marshall Is lands . translated from the German for the HRAF by Charles Braut and John M. Armstrong (New Haven), p. 288. ^Martin Dobrizhoffer, An Account of the Abipones, An Equestrian People of Paraguay (London, 1928), II, 71. 76 He continues by noting that nothing but warlike expedition^, slaughters, and spoils of the enemy, taking of £owns, plunder ing waggons [ sic} and estates, burning and depopulating colonies of the Spaniards, and other tragedies of that kind furnish the savages with subjects for singing and rejoicing. (p. 431) Cobo says of the Inca that the reasons why the Incas waged war were usually the ambition and desire to extend the boundaries of their Empire, punishment of the provinces that rebelled, the driving back of enemies who harassed the borders, and other similar causes. Schapera observes concerning the Hottentots of South Africa that battles were usually waged over pasture lands, which were scarce items. In South-West Africa the battles were over the scarce water. Now it should empha sized that war for scarce items is in a somewhat different category than war to enrich. If the survival of a group depends on a certain scarce item, war may be necessary in • ^ B e r n a b e Cobo, History of the New World, IV, trans lated from the Spanish for the HRAF by Ariane Brunei (New Haven), p. 197. ^Isaac Schapera, The Khoisan Peoples of South Africa; Bushmen and Hottentots (London, 1930), p. 287. 77 order to maintain possession of the item. However, the fact that constant fighting takes place for the scarce items reveals at least that a low priority is placed on the general obligation not to kill. If the obligation not to • 3 kill were highly regarded, with the killing of others in warfare being a serious matter, then other means besides warfare would at least be explored. But such is not the case. As for warfare waged for the purpose of looting, pillaging, and conquering, little need be said about the incompatibility of this kind of warfare with the general obligation not to kill. Glory. Equally incompatible with the general obli gation not to kill is war waged for the purpose of pres tige, honor, or glory. Evans-Pritchard states of the Nuer of the Nilotic Sudan that "skill and courage in fighting are reckoned the highest virtues, raiding the most noble, as well as the most profitable, occupation. ■^Edward Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and Political Institution of a Nilotic People (Oxford, 1940), p. 50. 78 Kroeber remarks concerning the people of the Phil ippines that "fighting was a chronic act of Philippine society, and the man lacking in personal courage enjoyed but the slightest esteem, whatever his hereditary station in life.The Isneg code, quoted previously (p. 26), bears repeating at this point. 'Headhunting is a glorious practice. If you are a real Isneg, you should take a few heads during your lifetime or at least help your companions in doing so. . . .If you have the opportunity to take the head of an enemy unawares, be it that of a woman or a child, there you have a splendid occasion of becoming a . . . brave, without too much trouble and with very little danger.' The Katab of Nigeria did not practice indiscrimate head-hunting, but took heads solely in a formally declared battle. Yet, as Meek notes, the head-winner only considered the act of getting a head as a means of distinction; there was no underlying religious idea such as that the dead enemy would be his slave in a future life.l^ Malinowski says of the Trobrianders that they were fair fighters, never engaging in nocturnal or treacherous -^Alfred Louis Kroeber, People of the Philippines. Amer. Museum of Natural History, Handbook Series, No. 8, 2nd and revised ed. (New York, 1943), pp. 171-2. K. Meek, Tribal Studies in Northern Nigeria (London, 1931), II, 71. 79 raids. War was by warning only. When another Trobriander village was defeated, everybody would be killed if they did not flee. The village was then burned. But afterward a ceremony of reconciliation took place, and friend and foe would help rebuild the village. And the reason for this rather non-utilitarian form of warfare? Malinowski says that it was a kind of social duel, where glory rather than any decisive economic or political advantage was gained. Note in this case that persons are killed who obviously are not considered inferior, much less, non human. Malinowski takes pains to point out that the Tro- brianders all belong, in effect, to the same culture, hav ing similar customs and language.^ Stirling reports that for the Jivaro of Ecuador it is certainly true that at the present time the most important thing in life to a Jivaro is war. His greatest aspiration is to become renowned as a fighter. His reputation increases in proportion to the number of heads he has succeeded in securing during his career.^ Murphy, speaking of the Mundurucd of Amazonia, says that •^Bronislaw Malinowski, "War and Weapons among the Natives of the Trobriand Islands," Man, XX, No. 5 (1920), 10-11. l^Matthew Williams Stirling, Historical and Ethno- f raphical Materials on the Jivaro Indians. Bureau of Amer. th., bulletin 11/ (Washington, 1938), p. 50. 80 that the purpose of aboriginal Munduruc<i warfare was to secure trophy heads and to bring back captive children to adopt into the tribe. Wars were us ually initiated by young men eager to gain war prowess and prestige by taking heads and captive. Murphy continues his discussion in another place, stating that the Mundurucu looked upon warfare in much the same way [i.e., as an end in itself^ ; war was considered an essential and unquestioned part of their way of life, and foreign tribes were attacked because they were enemies by definition.^® Murphy adds that "it might be said that enemy tribes caused the Munduructl to go to war simply by existing, and the word for enemy meant merely any group that was not Munduructf 1 1 (p. 1026). In fact, Murphy reports that the Mundurucu could not remember provocations by other groups, and denied the need to defend their homeland. Besides the fact that prestige was an important motive for war, two further points should be noted with reference to the statements of Murphy relating to the ■^Robert Murphy, "The Rubber Trade and the Mundurucu Village," unpubl. diss. (Colombia, 1954), p. 54. ^Robert Murphy, "Intergroup Hostility and Social Cohesion," Amer. Anthro., LIX (1957), 1025. 81 Mundurucu. First of all, war was considered as a way of life for the Mundurucu. The reason for this will be dis cussed at a later time. Secondly, the mere fact of for eignness made a people into enemies, thus placing them in the class of fair game for war. This same concept is probably present in the majority of the groups that go to war for trivial reasons. For these groups, the justifica tion for warring against another tribe is not necessarily that the tribe made unprovoked, aggressive attacks on them, but simply that they want greater wealth, glory, or excite ment, and any outside tribe is legitimate prey for the fulfillment of these goals. If the obligation not to kill is recognized as applying to the outside tribe, the most that can be said is that the obligation is considered to be of less importance than the values of tribal wealth, personal or tribal glory, or excitement. This is practi cally the same as saying that the obligation is not recog nized as applying to the outside tribe. Pleasure, excitement, custom. In many cases the only reason, or at least an important reason, for going to war is that it brings pleasure and excitement, or it is just the custom of the culture. As to the latter point, 82 Roth states concerning the Dyaks of Borneo that when argued with about their head-hunting expedi tions, the Dyaks plead ancestral custom: 'it is the custom of the white man to read books, it is the custom of the Malays to say their prayers, but it is our custom from ages to go on the warpath.' ^-9 This statement of the Dyaks reveals that they were not too concerned about explaining their practices of head-hunting, for to plead a custom which is placed on the same level as the customs of reading books or saying prayers is, in fact, to plead very little. Apparently the Dyaks did not consid er war, and the killing involved, a grave enough matter to warrant serious efforts at explanation. With respect to pleasure and excitement, Gutmann says of the Chagga of Tanganyika that their chieftans start war at a whim.. If they want to go to war, they sim ply kill a member of another chieftan's tribe, and hostil- 20 ities immediately ensue. The Easter Islanders have a similar light-hearted attitude toward war. Metraux notes that "disputes over the name of a night of the moon or a ^H. Ling Roth, "The Natives of Borneo," Jour, of the Royal Anthro. Institute of Great Brit, and Ireland, XXII (1893), 57. ^Bruno Gutnann, The Tribal Teachings of the Chagga, translated from the German for the HRAF by Ward Goodenough and Dorothy Crawford (New Haven), pp. 283-4. 83 21 breach in etiquette might lead to war. Fighting over such trivialities would seem to indicate that war was a pleasurable pastime. The fact that glory and honor were motives for Mun durucu warfare has already been observed. Murphy states that excitement was another motive. "Finally, it should be considered that the Munduructa looked upon fighting as a source of sport and excitement. The enemy was looked upon as game to be hunted. Jenks reports concerning the Bontok of the Philip pines that there can be no doubt that head-hunting expeditions are often made in response to a desire for activity and excitement, with all the feasting, dancing, and rest days that follow a successful foray. ... In other words, the people get to itching for a head, because a head brings them emotional satisfaction. ^3 Jenks goes on to add the very interesting point that ene mies are not foreigners, but other Bontok villages. "Pri marily a pueblo is an enemy of every other pueblo, but it 2i # Alfred Metraux, Ethnology of Easter Island. Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Bulletin No. 160 (Honolulu, 1940), p. 149. ^Murphy, Amer. An thro ., LIX (1957) , 1028. ^Albert Ernest Jenks, The Bontoc Igorot, Dept, of the Interior Ethno. Pub., I (Manila, 1905), p. 175. 84 is customary for pueblos to make terms of peace" (p. 176). It is also customary to break the peace and go back to war. The Bontok illustrate a fact that is apparent in many cultures, namely, that fighting between people of the same culture and/or locality is usually distinguished from the fighting between people of different culture and/or locality. In fact, differences in fighting become apparent as one moves progressively away from the in-group. Perhaps a brief digression to discuss this matter could be of some profit. In some groups, of course, in-group fighting is strictly forbidden. Warner states that among the Murngin of Australia an important activity of the clan is war, the clan being the war-making group. Within this group no violent conflict ever takes place, no matter how much cause is given. Members may quarrel, but for clansmen to fight one another would be considered an unnatural act in Murngin society and it never occurs.24 For other peoples, in-group fighting is permitted, £ but only on a limited scale. Metraux states that among the Caingang of South Brazil clubs are used for fighting within w. Lloyd Warner, A Black Civilization: A Social Study of an Australian Tribe (New York, 1937), p. 17~I 85 the tribal group, but the people are careful not to kill one another. In fighting between tribes clubs are again used, but many are wounded and killed. In fighting with foreign tribes the whole range of weapons--clubs, arrows, 25 and so forth--is used. The progressive increase in vol- lence as one moves away from the in-group is here very noticeable. Danielsson points up the distinction made by the Jivaro of Ecuador between fighting among Jivaro of the same geographical area and those of another geographical area. He observes that in killings between groups of the same geographical area the principle of jus taliones is strictly followed--one for one. But in conflicts with different geographical groups, a war of extermination is pursued. It should be noted, then, that the fighting is essentially between Jivaro, and except for tribes closely associated geographically, Jivaro are eliminated with as 26 much dispatch as any foreigner. Karsten remarks that in these i wars between different geographical groups I , there is no question of weighing life 2 5 Alfred Metraux, "The Caingang," in Bur. Amer. Ethno., Bulletin No. 143, I (Washington, 1946), p. 467. ^Bengt Danielsson, "Some Attraction and Repulsion Patterns among Jibaro Indians," Sociometry, XII (1949), 89. 86 against life; the aim is to completely annihilate the enemy tribe, all members of which form one organic whole and are animated by the same feelings and mode of thought. The victorious party is all the more anxious to leave no single person of the enemy's people, not even small children, alive, as they fear lest these should later appear as avengers against the victors.27 In view of these examples, it seems to be the case that the closer one moves toward the in-group, either geo graphically or in terms of blood-relation, the more binding the obligation not to kill. This fact, if it is a fact, points to the conclusion that the obligation not to kill is fundamentally determined by a consideration of concrete, immediate values. The person in one's immediate associa tion is seen in terms of the concrete contribution that he makes to oneself and to the in-group, and as a result the obligation not to kill him has a substantial degree of force. In addition, fighting and killing are seen in terms of the concrete effects they have on the in-group. The closer that fighting moves toward the in-group, the more serious the threat of in-group disruption. Internal strife 27 Rafael Karsten, The Head-Hunters of Western Ama zonas, Societus Scieniarum Fennica: Commentationes Human- arum Literarum, VII, No. 1 (Helsingfors, 1935), pp. 277-8. 87 would obviously be highly disruptive, but so would fight ing with close neighbors or close kin. Thus, assuming the central importance and value of in-group preservation and maintenance, it is only natural to expect that the obliga tion not to kill would increase in strength and application as one moved toward the in-group. Revenge. Another major motive for war is revenge. In some cases revenge appears to serve the useful purpose of deterring indiscriminate and high-handed slaying. In other cases it appears to be practically an end in itself, and simply serves to prolong hostilities. The Tupinamba of Northeast Brazil are an example of the latter type of case. Their wars are caused by their foolish idea of revenge without cause or reason ... if pricked by a thorn, they break it into a hundred pieces, as if the object had sensitivity. ... To take revenge on lice, they bite them. If they think that they have been offended reconciliation is impossible. Such an attitude is passed on from father to son. You can see them teaching their children how to shoot with bows and arrows and they often exhort them to revenge themselves on their enemies, and to die rather than to forgive an enemy. When they are taken prisoner they do 4 r 88 not believe that they should try to escape, but they anticipate death, which they regard as glorious and honorable. Vanoverbergh reports another case in which revenge has lost its usefulness, and become an end in itself. He quotes the following from the Isneg code. 'Revenge is sweet to every Isneg. Never let an injury pass by unavenged. Much has been heard from the Ibonag about forgiveness; that term does not belong to our vocabulary. An Isneg who fails to exact full satisfaction for every misdeed is a coward.'^9 Here there is no concern with deterring killing or other wrongs, but simply with upholding honor. The obligation not to kill seems to be entirely out of the picture. The warlike nature of the Jivaro of Ecuador has al ready been noted. The basic cause for war is revenge. Stirling makes the following observation. The art of warfare is drilled into young boys from earliest childhood. When about the age of 6 a son is instructed by his father every morning at dawn concerning the necessity of being a warrior. He endeavors to implant in the son's mind the idea of revenge by reciting the feuds in which his particu lar family is involved. For example, he says: ^Andre Thevet, The Peculiarities of French Antart- ica, translated from the French for the HRAF by Alfred Metraux (New Haven), pp. 206-8. ^Morice Vanoverbergh, The Isneg Life Cycle, Pub. Catholic Anthro. Conference, III, No. 2 (Washington, 1936- 1938), p. 144. So-and-so killed your uncle; some one else killed your grandfather; we must have our revenge, otherwise bad luck will fall upon us. Our crops will be poor and we will not have success in the hunt. In this case revenge has become an end in itself. More over, revenge is reinforced by the notion of bad luck. Yet, it seems reasonable to suppose that even a moderate regard for the obligation not to kill would, bring about the employment of different means than blood-revenge, in spite of the views of bad luck. This assumption appears to be substantiated by an example which Danielsson cites. He reports that a Catholic Father, somewhat disturbed by the useless slaughter occasioned by Jivaro concepts of re- # venge, decided to conduct an experiment among the Yurupaza Jivaro. The offending persons were imprisoned for several days as an alternative to having the parties involved fight the matter out. Imprisonment was an indignity to the In dians, and both sides seemed satisfied with the arrangement, 31 neither being apprehensive about experiencing bad luck. The point that would be maintained here is that the Catho lic Father thought of an alternative to revenge, not be- •^Stirling, op. cit. (above, note 15), p. 51. 31 Danielsson, op. cit. (above, note 3), pp. 86-7. 90 cause he was so much more brilliant than the Indians, but simply because he was motivated to think of an alternative. The assumption is that his motivation stemmed in large part from the high regard he had for the obligation not to kill. A final quotation on the topic of revenge raises a very interesting question of some importance. Handy, re ferring to the Marquesas of French Polynesia, says that there were two basic causes of all wars. The first was the necessity of securing human sacrifices at certain times for offerings to the tribal god, such sacrifices being always obtained from an enemy tribe. The second cause was revenge, the occasion being frequently the killing or stealing of men, women, or children for sacrifices on the pairt of another tribe.32 Now, the question that comes to mind is the follow ing: Does the practice of human sacrifice mean that the general obligation not to kill is not recognized, or does the belief that the gods require human sacrifice make such sacrifice consistent with the general obligation not to kill? This question is a difficult one, and could be an swered adequately, if at all, only by a very lengthy digres sion into psychology and philosophical theology. However, W. S. Craighill Handy, The Native Culture in the Marquesas, Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Bulletin No. 9 (Honolulu, 1923), p. 123. a few tentative remarks can and should be made. To begin with, a similar question could have been raised with reference to the Jivaro. The point was made that among the Jivaro a general sense of bad luck was asso ciated with the failure to revenge in full. Yet, when the Catholic Father used imprisonment instead of blood-revenge, apparently no question was raised with regard to any possi ble bad luck, even though imprisonment could hardly be considered a form of revenge equal in severity to blood- revenge. This would seem to indicate that the general sense of bad luck was a secondary attitude; that is, it was essentially a reflection and/or product of the basic desire for revenge, rather than a primary cause of that desire. If the sense of bad luck had been primary, one would have expected full blood-revenge to be required. However, as a secondary attitude, it undoubtedly had some causal influence, acting as a reinforcer of the primary desire for revenge. To be sure, the problem of the chickan and the egg arises at this point, yet it seems fairly safe to hold to the secondary nature of the sense of bad luck, and the primary nature of the attitude toward revenge. The application of this line of thinking to the subject at 92 hand will be that the gods are more a reflection of the basic attitudes of a people than they are the cause of the attitudes. In other words, the fact that the gods require human sacrifice is more a reflection of the failure of a people to recognize the obligation not to kill an outsider, than it is the cause of such failure. It would be granted that the view of the gods tends to reinforce the lack of ethical insight. However, the primary system involved still seems to be the attitude of the people toward the obligation not to kill an outsider. The fact that outsiders are used for the sacrifices to the gods gives almost double assurance that the gods essentially reflect rather than cause the basic ethical attitudes of a people. Why, for example, are outsiders used? If the gods are to be truly honored, why not sacri fice someone of status in the in-group? The God of Abra ham required the sacrifice of Abraham's most prized pos- session--his only son. But if outsiders are not highly prized, then the obligation not to kill outsiders would be expected to be minimal, and they could easily be used for sacrifices. Thus, the fact that outsiders are used as sacrificial victims points to the conclusion, not that the gods are being honored and obeyed, but that the gods 93 reflect the failure to see that the obligation not to kill holds with respect to outsiders. Further, the history of religions is replete with instances of people who have changed their gods when their needs and goals changed. One is almost inclined to say that the gods have changed with the whims of the people. One would assume, therefore, that if the obligation not to kill were recognized by a people as applying to outsiders, then something would be done about the nature of the sacri fices offered to the gods, or at least a sense of tension and ambiguity would be present. Finally, it is noteworthy that a change of gods does not necessarily bring a change in attitudes or even practices. Cultures that ostensibly have been Christian ized have, nevertheless, retained many of their basic at titudes. The gods have been changed without reluctance, but the attitudes have not. Thus, although the Christian God is avowedly a God who issues the command not to kill, in some instances the supposedly Christianized people still have an itching for a head or a good fight, and sometimes get what they want. This would seem to indicate that the 94 functions of the gods in shaping and maintaining basic at titudes and practices is greatly overrated. Or put in another way, the gods, as a general rule, are quite inef fective unless they find support in the attitudes of the people. One does not have to go to primitive cultures to establish this point. In sum, it seems a bit reckless to assert that the gods are the basic reason for human sacrifice. If they are not, but occupy instead the position of secondary, reflective systems, then they provide little justification for the killing of outsiders in sacrifice. Even if human sacrifices for the gods were not required, outsiders would probably be killed for other trivial purposes. He a dhun t ing. Headhunting has been mentioned numer ous times in the data presented in this chapter. Perhaps a brief analysis of headhunting may serve as a summary of the various reasons for warfare. Lambrecht, speaking of the Mayawyaw, a sub-group of the Ifugao of the Philippines, states that it appears from the description of these few raids to the country of their enemies, that the Mayawyaw 95 in their headhunting exploits are nothing more than common assassins. . . . They were murderers of women working peacefully in the sweet-potato fields, of men getting firewood and entirely un suspicious of imminent danger, of people surprised along the path by enemies lying in ambush.^3 Now what could be the motives for such wanton slaying, which has as its purpose the obtaining of heads? Barton, referring to the Ifugad in general, lists four motives: revenge or retaliation; relief from boredom; recognition and distinction; and the obtaining of magical powers.^ The precise place that each motive has in the life of an Ifugao at a specific time can, of course, not be deter mined. One motive may dominate at one time, another at another. Some may be operating at a more conscious level; others, such as relief from boredom, at a less conscious level. One motive, the desire for magical power, calls for special comment. Kennedy, speaking of the people of Borneo, has the following to say on the subject of magical Francis Lambrecht, The Mayawyaw Ritual, Pub. of Cath. Anthro. Conference, IV, Nos. 1-5 (Washington, D. C., 1932, 1935, 1938, 1939, 1941), p. 460. ^^Roy Franklin Barton, The Half-Way Sun: Life among the Headhunters of the Philippines (New York, 1930), pp. 196-7. power. ^ A Borneo settlement, let us say, has been suf fering from epidemics, crop failures, and infertility of women. Casting about for a reason to explain their ill-fortune, they arrive at the characteris tically Indonesian notion that their group lacks magical power. Their spiritual 'juice* is running low. What they need is a fresh influx of super natural vigor, not only to strengthen themselves, their crops, and their women, but also to fight off evil spirits with greater effectiveness. One of the most direct means of getting the magi cal power they need is to capture a new batch of heads from some other group.3-> The magical power of the head, then, is an impor tant reason for obtaining heads. The significant point to note at present is that a false belief provides a motive sufficient for obtaining heads. The fundamental question is whether the correction of this false belief would bring the cessation of headhunting. In view of the other motives for headhunting, even if the taking of heads ceased, fight ing and the taking of another life would probably still continue. This is particularly true if the assumption is made that the magical beliefs represent a secondary system; that is, that they are merely reflections of primary atti tudes. A further question, however, is whether the acqui sition of magical power, granting that such power is avail- Raymond Kennedy, The Ageless Indies (New York, 1942), p. 101. 97 able, is sufficient reason for taking the life of another. Does a supposed benefit to the in-group justify killing another person? A recognition of the general obligation not to kill would seem to require a clearly negative answer. Warfare and Culture The evidence reviewed to this point seems to indi cate that the obligation not to kill receives scant recog nition outside the in-group. In numerous cultures warfare and fighting appear to be favorite pastimes. In other cultures warfare and fighting are central to the function ing of the culture. This point is worthy of some addi tional comment. Barnes notes concerning the Ngoni of Nyasaland that the principal index of power was the number of a man's dependents. Political struggles were essentially not struggles to control wealth but to enjoy the sup port of followers. The main source of dependents was from raiding, and hence the allocation of cap tives was crucial to the working of the social system. 3*\J. A. Barnes, Politics in a Changing Society. A Political History of the Fort Jameson Ngoni (Oxford, 1954), p. 30. 98 Barnes goes on to remark that since the acquisition of dependents was central to the functioning of the society, the external relations of the Ngoni State were war like. The Ngoni did not trade with their neighbours, or send ambassadors to them, or enter into alliances with them; they merely killed or captured them. (p. 41) One of the most outstanding examples of a society based on warfare is the society of the Mundurucd of Ama zonia. Warfare was at the very core of this society. In fact, the people appeared to be motivated by a general ag gressiveness. Murphy remarks that "the most important single motivation to hostility was a generalized aggres- 37 siveness that recognized no specific aims. In endeavoring to explain this general aggressive ness, Murphy looks to the social structure of the Mundurucu and finds there what he considers to be the fundamental causes of their agressiveness. He observes that the necessity for suppressing overt conflict as the only alternative to serious disruptions of social relations was complemented by the necessity for male cohesion and unity in villages whose hereditary in habitants were the women. As a result, Mundurucd ethical values enjoined absolute harmony and cooper ation upon all the males of the tribe.3° 37Murphy, Amer. Anthro. (above, note 17), p. 1028. 38Ibid., p. 1030. 99 This emphasis on internal harmony meant that aggressive ness had to be directed entirely toward outside groups, which meant that Mundurucu and non-Mundurucu must be clear ly distinguished, and that a dual ethical system be em ployed. As to the distinction between Mundurucd and non- Mundurucu, Murphy remarks that the major unifying theme of the Mundurucu view of humanity lies in the division which they make, explicitly and verbally, between those who are Mundurucu and those who are not. Only the former are called 'people,1 while the latter are referred to categorically as 'outlanders.' In times past, all 'outlanders* were considered to be enemies and proper objects of attack.^9 As for the dual ethical system, Murphy states very empha tically that Mundurucu society was welded by kinship and the ethic of harmony and cooperation. No commitments were owed to those outside the system; the humanity °f^Q others was recognized, but it entailed no duties. Murphy concludes his discussion with the incisive observa tion that actually, the only way in which hostility could be unleashed without damage to the society was against ^Murphy, "Mundurucu Indians, a Dual System of Ethics," in Encyclopedia of Morals, ed. Vergilius Ferm (New York, 1956), p. 371. 4QIbid., p. 374. 100 the outside world. Paradoxically for a people who considered all the world as an enemy, the true cause of enmity came from within their own society. Thus, a number of societies are structured in such a way that warfare is integral to the normal functioning of the society. These societies represent the clearest examples of societies with a dual ethic. For these so cieties the obligation not to kill is applied with great rigor to the in-group, but not at all to outsiders. And the reason is not that outsiders, being hostile enemies, are, for that reason, killed and destroyed, but rather that outsiders are enemies simply because they are out siders, and are, for that reason, killed and destroyed. A tribe many miles distant, without any record of hostility, would still be an "enemy" tribe, just because it was for eign. The reasons for going to war lie entirely within these societies. They are aggressive societies, with an ethical system that permits the free expression of aggres sion upon outsiders. The obligation not to kill, as well as other ethical obligations, is simply not recognized with respect to outsiders. ^Murphy, Amer. An thro ., p. 1031. 101 Blood-Brotherhood Another practice, relating to the subject of war fare, and pointing to the in-group limitation of obliga tions in general and the obligation not to kill in parti cular, is that of blood-brotherhood. Blood-brotherhood is one means for bringing group hostilities to an end. Downes makes the following observations concerning blood-brother hood among the Tiv of Nigeria. In the cases of offences committed by members of other kindreds, settlement was effected by agreement of war. As time went on agreements grew up between kindreds and clans in order to prevent the destruc tive argument of war; these, which exist now, are of great potency and are called ya iku'ul, or the eating of brotherhood. These ya iku’ul are regarded as an important kind of artificial relationship, cemented by the cere monial drinking of each other's blood from an incision in the right arm, still practiced between individuals. At these ceremonies oaths were taken to overlook breaches both past and future. There is a strong code of honour attached to these treaties which were regarded as sacred, and members of the opposite ya iku'ul would treat those of the other with respect. At times of want, or for any particular purpose, they would demand presents from each other which they would seize and no one would hinder them. ^ ^R. M. Downes, The Tiv Tribe (Kaduna, 1933), p. 73. 102 As to the significance of the blood-brotherhood relationship, Downes notes that it was an "important kind of artificial relationship." Mair makes the further note concerning the Ganda of Uganda: This ceremony [blood brotherhoodj could not make the blood-brother a full member of the clan, since he did not cease to belong to his own clan, but his status was in a certain degree assimilated to member ship. He respected his blood-brother1s totem as well as his own, was prohibited from marriage with women of his clan, was referred to by other members of the clan by the same kinship terms as his partner, and at ceremonies in his partner's clan he played the same part as a real relative of the same degree. . . . The relationship was inherited.^ The important point seems to be that the blood- brothers are brought into a relationship which is similar in many respects to a close kin relationship. Evans- Pritchard, in speaking of the Azande of the Belgian Congo, remarks that "blood-brotherhood gives to the vague senti ment of friendship, with its definite obligations, a status comparable to that of close kin relationship."^ However, Evans-Pritchard goes on to observe that, at least among the Azande, some important differences exist between ^Lucy P. Mair, An African People in the Twentieth Century (London, 1934), p. 71. ^Edward Evans-Pritchard, "Zande Blood-Brotherhood," Africa, VI (1933), 372. 103 the blood-brotherhood relationship and the close kin rela tionship. For example, the blood-brother may marry his partner's sister or daughter, something a kinsman could not do. In addition, the blood-brother does not adopt his partner's totem or clan-name. Further, he is obligated to help dig his partner's grave, something again which a kins man would not do. And finally, the mutual partaking of blood does not indicate the creation of a kin relationship, since kinship does not rest on blood relationship among the Azande. The blood was thought of more as a magical sub stance (pp. 398-401). Undoubtedly differences between blood-brotherhood and kin relationships are both numerous and significant with the precise differences varying from culture to cul ture. Yet, Evans-Pritchard's statement would probably hold generally, namely, his statement that blood-brotherhood brings persons together into a status comparable to that of close kin relationship. The significance of this in terms of moral obligation is that obligation again seems to rest on in-group relationships. Previous to the contract of blood-brotherhood, the blood-brother could be killed, stolen from, or treated in other immoral ways without any 104 sign of disapproval. The only way for him to be treated with moral consideration is to be brought into a special relationship with a partner, a relationship that places him in a position similar to a close in-group member. In short, blood-brotherhood is an artificial or ceremonial relationship between two persons, created through the mutual participation in each other's blood, whereby both gain a status similar to a close in-group member with res pect to one another. If a relationship were not created, the partners would still be outsiders to one another, and still without moral obligations to one another. Conclusion In sum, the cultural material on warfare heavily underscores the in-group limitation of ethical obligations in general, and the obligation not to kill in particular. The trivial reasons for engaging in warfare cannot be ex plained simply by saying that the tribes attacked are ene mies. Even assuming that they are intensely hostile, a defensive posture would be most consistent with the recog nition of the general obligation not to kill. But many tribes engage in looting, pillaging, and wanton destruction 105 for no apparent reason except that they want to enrich themselves, extend their boundaries, receive honor, or engage in exciting activity. The obligation not to kill the outsider is at a bare minimum, if it exists at all. In addition, the cultural material on warfare has also emphasized the centrality of the preservation and mainte nance of the in-group. Hostilities become more intense as they move away from the in-group. Further, the goals of the in-group largely determine how outsiders are treated. If warfare is necessary to maintain the social structure of a group, it is pursued regardless of the consequences to outsiders. The in-group’s preservation is fundamental, and as a consequence, the in-group is fundamental in the determination of what is and what is not a moral obliga tion . CHAPTER III CUSTOMS AND ATTITUDES RELATING TO THE CONQUERED Intimately related to the subject of warfare is that of the treatment of prisoners and conquered peoples. What do the customs and attitudes relating to the conquered reveal concerning the obligation not to kill? In the last chapter the Tucuna of Amazonia were noted for their rather exceptional attitudes toward warfare and toward their conquered foes. The point was made that they were not an aggressive people. In victory they did not take prisoners, nor did they endeavor to subjugate the conquered. The Ngoni of Nyasaland were also noted for their practice of integrating political captives into their society. The Inca, although aggressive in their posture, followed similar humane practices in their treatment of the conquered (the only exception being the use of the con quered for human sacrifices). Garcilaso de la Vega empha- 107 sizes that one of the professed reasons -for Inca warfare was to free the conquered from their bestial ways and in human life, bring them an improved moral and political condition, and lead them to a knowledge and worship of their father, the Sun.^ These objectives, which often were sheer rationalizations for an aggressive policy, neverthe less required that the conquered be treated with a measure of generosity. The fact that as a rule Inca policy was one of generosity shows that the professed objectives having to do with the betterment of the conquered were not wholly rationalizations. Although practices of generosity and humaneness toward the conquered are present in many cultures, probably the majority of cultures deal in a rather high-handed manner with the conquered and the captive. For example, Takakura relates concerning the Ezo, who were dominated by the Japanese, that if the Ezo would refuse to work, "they would be poisoned and Japanese would take over their vil lage, or they would be squeezed to death with the oil cake 1-El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, First Part of the R°yai Commentaries of the Incas, trans. Clements R. Markham (London, 1871), II, 687-8. 108 press or boiled to death in a pot," or put to death in o other gruesome ways. Tauxier, referring to the Mossi of French West Africa, states that when two factions were at war in Yatenga, the Mossi who were made prisoners were killed immediately, including small children of the male sex. even those who were still at their mother's breast.3 Blackwood reports that the Kurtatchi of the Solomon Islands would adopt conquered children into their clans. But adult men and women prisoners were killed and eaten. As a reason for not keeping the women, they said it would not do for the women to be taken to live in the villages of their enemies, they would always be thinking of their old homes and would run away.^ This reasoning appears to be the very weakest of rational izations. However, a rationalization, any rationalization, may be supposed by some to give evidence that the obliga tion not to kill is really recognized as applying to the ^Shinichiro Takakura, "The Ainu of Northern Japan," trans. John A. Harrison, Transactions of the Amer. Philo-_ soph. Soc. , L, Part 4 (I960), 43. . Tauxier, The Black Population of Yatenga, trans lated from the French for the HRAF by Varian Schmokel (New Haven), p. 50. ^Beatrice Blackwood, Both Sides of Buka Passage (Oxford, 1935), p. 43. 109 foreign women. However, if it is recognized, the weak nature of the rationalization shows that the obligation has little importance, and can be dismissed for the most tri vial of reasons. Conzemius says of the Sumu of Central America that they "apparently did not enslave their prisoners, but killed them outright. . . . Certain subtribes of the Sumu were cannibals and roasted the enemies captured in war."^ Bolinder remarks that the Goajiro of Colombia usually killed all male prisoners, even little boys, the motive being fear of vengeance at a later time.^ The same motive was domi nant in the Jivaro of Ecuador, who as was noted in the last chapter, annihilated entire villages, including small children. Before continuing with further examples, a few com ments are in order concerning the matter of fear of revenge. Fear of vengeance, which is undoubtedly a very important consideration among the majority of societies where pri- 5Eduard Conzemius, Ethnographical Survey of the Miskito and Sumu Indians of Honduras and Nicaragua (Smith sonian Inst., 1932), p. 85. ^Gustaf Bolinder, Indians on Horseback (London, 1957), p. 64. 110 soners are killed or entire villages are annihilated, might be claimed to be a sufficient reason for the exter mination of the conquered, inasmuch as the fear proceeds from the fundamental desire for self-preservation. Of course, it should be remembered that in numerous cases revenge has become non-utilitarian, an end in itself, re lated only very peripherally to the desire for self-preser vation. However, even assuming that revenge is always directly and immediately related to self-preservation, the question that arises is whether self-preservation requires the killing of adult male prisoners, not to mention women, young boys, and infants. It has not been established that self-preservation requires or justifies such extreme mea sures. Indeed, the fact that some cultures integrate the conquered into their society reveals that other means than wholesale slaughter are available. Thus, the fact that extermination of the enemy is one means of self-preserva tion does not establish that it is the best or even a good means, and it certainly does not establish that it is con sistent with the obligation not to kill. A clear recogni tion of the obligation as applying to outsiders would seem to necessitate that the value of self-preservation be sus Ill tained in a way that would reduce the killing of outsiders to a minimum. Further, it should be noted that self- preservation is especially not a justifiable reason for mass extermination in the case where a village or people were originally attacked for such trivial purposes as loot ing, glory, or excitement--purposes very common among the cultures of the world. A slight recognition of, or low regard for, the general obligation not to kill is illustrated in still additional cultures. For instance, Mead, reporting on the Manus of the Bismark Archipelago, states that they prided themselves on not being cannibals. Yet, they had abso lutely no hesitancy in selling war captives to their can nibal neighbors.^ Best states concerning the Maori of New Zealand that "as a rule slaves taken in war were well treated, but might be slain by their owner if he wished to make a human 8 sacrifice, or to add a much appreciated dish to a feast." ^Margaret Mead, New Lives for Old: Cultural Trans formation— Manus, 1928-1953 (New York, 1956), p. 72. ^Elsdon Best, The Maori (Wellington, 1924), I, 15. 112 Wilken notes that among the Arfak of New Guinea "prisoners and slaves are also slain and eaten. If there are no prisoners or slaves, the children of households g that have more than two are killed." The latter state ment is especially noteworthy inasmuch as it appears to break the rule of in-group limitation. And Wilken goes on to add that the people do not engage in cannibalism for any lack of food (pp. 44-5). Williams, speaking of the Orokaiva of New Guinea, observes that cannibalism was practiced toward outsiders. Moreover, he makes the very significant statement that "the reason for cannibalism itself has been given by na tives as the simple desire for good food."^ Kennedy remarks that the South Sea Islanders-- essentially of the Solomons and New Hebrides--ate human flesh like ahy other flesh. They would often take captives \ on a long canoe trip, breaking their bones in order that they might not escape. Thus, they would have fresh meat 9g . A. Wilken, Manual for the Comparative Ethnology of the Netherlands East Indies, translated from the Dutch for the HRAF by S. Dumas Kaan (New Haven), p. 38. ■^-^Francis E. Williams, Orokaiva Society (London, 1930), p. 171. 113 along the way.’ * - ' * ' It should be noted that cannibalism usually involves a form of extreme vengeance toward, and insult and degra dation of, the enemy captured. Numerous of the above exam-3 pies, however, seem to indicate that relish for human meat is also an important factor in cannibalism. And relish for human meat is not related in every instance to the desire for an adequate diet. The Arfak, cited above, are a case in point. Another case is the Gagas of Angola. Childs reports that these Gagas are the greatest cannibals and man-eaters that be in the world, for they feed chiefly upon man's flesh (notwithstanding of their) having all the cattle of that country.^ Yet, even if cannibalism arises out of a lack of an ade quate diet, it is not thereby justified or made consistent with the general obligation not to kill. It is interesting to observe that a number of groups that have only a scanty diet still do not resort to cannibalism. The Yaps of •^Raymond Kennedy, The Ageless Indies (New York, 1942), p. 104. ■^Gladwyn Murray Childs, Umbundu Kinship and Char acter (London, 1949), p. 183. 114 Micronesia are an instance of such a group.^ Turning from the subject of cannibalism to further data relating to the treatment of the conquered, one ob serves a very significant practice among the Marquesas of French Polynesia. "Captives taken alive were tortured and put to death in various ingenious ways, by dismemberment, evisceration, and other methods."^ The important point here is not merely that captives were killed, but that they were killed in a brutal and sadistic manner--a rather non utilitarian practice, yet one that is not infrequent in the cultures of the world. Staden, speaking of the Tupinamba of Northeast Brazil, says that "if they take a prisoner who is badly wounded they kill him at once and carry home the meat roasted. Those that are unwounded they take back alive and kill them in the huts."^ They then eat the victim. In the case of the Tupinamba the basic motive for killing • ^ A l f r e d Tetens and Johann Kubary, "The Caroline Island Yap or Guap," translated from the German for the Yale Cross-Cultural Survey (New Haven, 1942), p. 90. •^Ralph Linton, "Marquesan Culture," in The Individ ual and His Society, ed. Abram Kardiner (New York, 1939), pp. 180-1. ^“ *Hans Staden, The True Story of His Captivity, trans. and ed. Malcolm Letts (London, 1928), p. 153. 115 and consuming captives is revenge. However, the non utilitarian nature of their concepts of revenge is pointed up by the following custom. The captured prisoner is us ually given a woman, with whom he has intercourse. Preg nancy frequently results. The child born from the union is not permitted to reach adulthood, but is killed and eaten. The reason for this practice is given by L^ry, who reports that if the women given to the prisoners are pregnant the savages who have killed the father insist that such children originated from the seeds of their enemies and they eat them after their birth or they allow them to grow up a little before taking such extreme measures.^ An additional point should be noted with reference to the attitude of the prisoner. Magalhaes de Gandavo reports that the prisoner to be killed and eaten believes that weakness in death would be uncourageous. In fact, it is an honor to die at the hands of one's enemies. One prisoner, when offered freedom, would not go, but asked death, because his relatives would not consider him brave, 16 ✓ Jean de Lery, History of a Voyage to Brazil, translated from the French for the HRAF by Alfred M^traux (New Haven), p. 51. and would avoid or even kill him.^ One would think that a prisoner who escaped would be valued as an additional fighting man and/or a source of information concerning the enemy. However, the native code holds that honor requires death. And the prisoner dies gladly, because he is com mitted to the values and goals of the community--values and goals that make him quite expendable. A further very revealing observation concerning the Tupinamba is made by Cardim. He states that singers as well men as women are much esteemed among them, in so much that if they take an enemie a good singer, and an Inventer of Verses, they therefore spare his life, and doe not eate him or his children. In other words, if a person is a musician or a poet, this is sufficient reason for sparing his life and not pursuing revenge--a very fitting way to recognize the general obli gation not to kill. ■^Pedro de Magalhaes de Gandavo, "Treatise on the Land of Brazil," in The Histories of Brazil, (New York, 1922), II, 171. 18j?erriao Cardim, "A Treatise of Brasil and Arti cles," in Hakluytus Posthumus or Purchas His Filgrimes, XVI, ed. Samuel Purchas (Glasgow, 1906), p. 428. CHAPTER IV IMPLICATIONS FOR ETHICAL INTUITIONISM A number of important general observations can now be made with reference to the cultural material reviewed in the last three chapters„ The central observation is that the obligation not to kill is frequently restricted to the in-group. In other words, many cultures have one obligation for themselves, and one for outsiders--a dual ethic. Now, a dual ethic serves to point to the more general observation that there is a basic variety in the obligation not to kill. Not only does the obligation vary according to whether one is an in-group member or an outsider, but also often according to one's status and function within the in-group. In addition, the rela tion of the obligation to other values, rights, and ob ligations varies enormously from culture to culture. A dual ethic also points to the observation that concrete, 117 immediate considerations are central in the determination of the obligation not to kill. The concrete value of the person within one's immediate association is easily per ceived. Therefore, the obligation not to kill has appli cation in his case. However, the concrete value of an outsider, especially a distant one, is not readily per ceived, and, therefore, the obligation not to kill has little, if any, application in his case. But more impor tantly, a dual ethic points to the observation that the value of in-group preservation and maintenance is the fundamental concrete consideration in the determination of the obligation not to kill. The value of in-group preser vation and maintenance absolutely requires that the obli gation not to kill apply to the in-group member. Yet, it does not require that the obligation apply with equal force to all in-group members. It is consistent with the value of in-group preservation, and to be expected in terms of the value, that the obligation not to kill vary in ap plication and strength according to the function and sta tus of the person within the in-group. It is obvious that the value of in-group preservation and maintenance does not require that the obligation not to kill apply to out siders . 119 The question of this chapter is: What do these general observations imply for the position which holds that obligation is based on the intuition of prima facie duties? In order to answer this question, a particular, representative individual--Sir David Ross--will be chosen, and his position discussed in some detail. The Position of Ross To begin with, Ross points out that although obli gation and rightness are closely related notions, they are not precisely equivalent, for something is obligatory if it is the only act that will satisfy a claim, whereas more than one act may be right; that is, more than one act may equally fulfill the moral claims on a person. Ross des cribes a right act as including two moments--(a) that there is no other act that would more completely fulfill the moral claims on us, but also (b) that any act which is right is itself a fulfillment of at least one claim upon us.1 Ross makes rightness the fundamental moral notion around which his discussion centers. He maintains that ^Sir W. David Ross, Foundations of Ethics (Oxford, 1939), p. 44. 120 rightness cannot be reduced entirely to the tendency of an act to bring about a maximum of good. He states that in the main, Professor Broad's view is just that which I wish to advocate, viz. that among the features of a situation which tend to make an act right there are some which are independent of the tendency of the act to bring about a maximum of good. (p. 82) Thus, rightness is not reducible to any other notion. To be sure, it is similar to other forms of rightness, such as the rightness expressed in the statement, "That is the right road." Nevertheless, it is essentially a unique form of rightness. But if rightness in its ethical application shares with rightness in other connexions the characteris tic of being relational, in another respect ethical rightness is quite different from any other kind of rightness. . . . Moral rightness cannot . . . be . . . explained in terms of any non-moral relation, (p. 52) And in another place Ross says: In the same way £as with redness] we can begin to define moral rightness, because we can say it is a form of suitability; but we cannot complete the definition, since if we ask what kind of suitability it is we can only say that it is the kind of suit ability that is rightness. (p. 55) In other words, rightness is an indefinable, non-natural relation. At this point the question arises as to the means of apprehending rightness, and the specific form in which 121 rightness is apprehended. As to the latter question, Ross holds that in a particular situation the rightness or wrongness of the total situation is not directly appre hended, but only the rightness or wrongness of the differ ent aspects of the situation. In short, moral apprehension has to do essentially with what Ross calls prima facie obligations (note the shift of emphasis here from rightness to obligation). Moral intuitions are not principles by the immediate application of which our duty in particular circum stances can be deduced. They state what I have else where called prima facie obligations. . . . In the first place . . . any possible act has many sides to it which are relevant to its rightness or wrong ness. . . . It is only by recognizing these differ ent features one by one that we can approach the forming of a judgement on the totality of its nature; our first look reveals these features in isolation, one by one; they are what appears prima facie. And secondly, they are, prima facie, obligations. Prima facie obligation depends on some one aspect of the act; obligation or disobligation attaches to it in virtue of the totality of its aspects. (p. 84) If moral apprehension has to do essentially and fundamentally with prima facie obligations, then one cannot make unqualified statements of universal moral laws. But this, according to Ross, is similar to the situation in physics. Just as one cannot say that a force impinging on a body will always move it in the direction of the force, 122 regardless of the circumstances, but only that any force tends to make the body move in the line of the force . . . in the same way if we want to formulate universal moral laws, we can only form ulate them as laws of prima facie obligation, laws stating the tendencies of actions to be obligatory in virtue of this characteristic or that. (p. 86) It should be noted that, although Ross consistently uses the phrase 'prima facie obligation,' he is not altogether happy with the phrase. He holds that the word 'responsi bility' would be better (p. 85). But the question still remains as to the means of apprehending prima facie duties. Ross's answer is as fol lows . If we now turn to ask how we come to know these fundamental moral principles, the answer seems to be that it is in the same way in which we come to know the axioms of mathematics. Both alike seem to be both synthetic and a priori; that is to say, we see the predicate, though not included in the definition of the subject, to belong necessarily to anything which satisfies that definition. And as in mathematics, it is by intuitive induction that we grasp the general truths. We see first, for instance, that a particular imagined act, as being productive of pleasure to another, has a claim on us, and it is a very short and inevitable step from this to seeing that any act, as possessing the same constitutive character, must have the same resultant character of prima facie rightness. But we are perhaps in one respect better off than in geometry, at least; for while in geometry the dia grams by whose aid we come to see the general truths 123 merely approximate to having the two characteristics which we see to be necessarily united, we have be fore us in ethics acts already done, in which we can recognize the two characteristics to be actually present and necessarily united--the characteristics, for instance, of being productive of pleasure to another person and that of being prima facie right. (p. 320) From this quotation it is evident that Ross consid ers an ethical intuition to be similar to the intuition of a mathematical axiom. Both are intuitions involving a synthetic a priori. Thus, the predicate 'right* is intui tively seen to belong to a subject of a specific definition, just as the predicate 'shortest distance between two points' is intuitively seen to belong to the subject 'straight line.' One sees, for example, that the predi cate 'right' belongs to the subject 'an act which is productive of pleasure to another.' One sees further, by intuitive induction, that the predicate 'right' applies to any act of this nature, that is, of a nature such that it is productive of pleasure to another. In addition, Ross points out very emphatically that in intuiting rightness one is better off, at least in one respect, than in intuiting geometrical truths, for the em pirical diagrams by which geometrical truths are grasped do not in themselves embody the geometrical truths, because 124 the diagrams are only empirical approximations of ideal figures. On the other hand, actions embody the actual ob jects of ethical intuition: for example, the characteris tic of being productive of pleasure to another and that of being right. Granting that prima facie obligations are intuited in a manner similar to mathematical axioms, the question arises as to what the basic prima facie obligations are. Ross distinguishes two general classes of prima facie duties. Some [duties] rest on the mere fact that there are other beings in the world whose condition we can make better in respect of virtue, or of intelligence, or of pleasure. These are the duties of beneficence. . . . I think that we should dis tinguish from these the duties that may be summed up under the title of 'not injuring others'. No doubt to injure others is incidentally to fail to do them good; but it seems to me clear that non maleficence is apprehended as a duty distinct from that of beneficence, and as a duty of a more stringent character.2 Now, the duties of non-maleficence would certainly include the duty not to kill. Thus, the relation of Ross's position to the cultural material discussed becomes quite clear. The immediate question to be answered is: What ^Ross, The Right and the Good (Oxford, 1930), p. 21. 125 does Ross's position imply that is of relevance to cultural anthropology, and can be tested by the cultural material? The major implication of relevance has to do with the universality of basic moral obligations. One would expect, on the grounds of Ross's position, to find univer sal recognition, at least implicitly, of the general obli gation not to kill. This expectation is based on the as sumptions that the capacity for moral intuition is linked to human nature, which is presumably universal; that fun damental moral insights will, therefore, receive universal recognition; and that the obligation not to kill is a fun damental moral insight. Now it should be noted that these assumptions do not lead one to the conclusion that all peo ple should have a completely explicit recognition of all moral insights. One would certainly not expect, for exam ple, that all people should have an explicit recognition of all logical truths. However, one would think that prin ciples that are fundamental to thinking and living would receive at least implicit recognition. Thus, one would expect to find universal recognition, at least implicitly, of such a basic logical principle as the Law of Contradic tion. One would also expect to find an implicit universal 126 recognition of such a basic moral principle as the obliga tion not to kill. If the above assumptions are correct, Ross is faced with the acute difficulty of explaining the variations in the obligation not to kill, particularly the fundamental variation of the limitation of the obligation to the in group c The in-group limitation is almost like limiting the validity of the axioms of geometry or the laws of logic to a specific people--like saying that the axioms and laws are valid for the French, but not for the Japanese. If the obligation not to kill rests on the intuition of the general synthetic a priori that killing another person is wrong, then the obligation must hold, not merely that kill ing one class of persons--the persons of the in-group--is wrong, but that killing any person is wrong. Why, then', the in-group limitation? Before considering Ross’s explanation of variation among cultures, it would be profitable to deal with the possible suggestion that might be made to the effect that there is, in fact, universal recognition of a moral prin ciple related to killing. It is not, however, the simple, unqualified principle that killing is wrong, but it is the principle that murder is wrong. As for the universality 127 of the principle that murder is wrong, Kluckhohn observes that "every culture has a concept of murder, distinguishing this from execution, killing in war, and other 'justifiable homicide." But Kluckhohn continues on the same page to point out the weakness of the approach that emphasizes the universality of a moral concept such as murder. He re marks that anthropologists are more confortable with a treat ment [of moral universals]} like Linton's, which emphasizes that the likenesses are primarily con ceptual, and that variation rages rampant as to details of prescribed behavior, instrumentalities, and sanctions. In other words, anthropologists, although admitting that every society has a concept of murder, according to which actions classified as murder are considered to be wrong, go on to note that the content of the concept varies enor mously from culture to culture. What this means is that murder is merely a formal concept without any definite content. In fact, one can even go further in the case of murder and state that the moral rule that murder is wrong is nothing but a tautology, for the word 'murder' simply ^Clyde Kluckhohn, "Ethical Relativity: Sic et Non," Journal of Philosophy, LII (1955), 672. 128 means 'unjustifiable killing' or 'killing that is wrong.' Thus, to state that all peoples recognize murder to be wrong is but to point to the fact that people use words consistently. However, to obtain a true moral universal, it is necessary to have more than the consistent use of words. It is necessary to have a synthetic rule with simi lar content for every culture. This, of course, is pre cisely the kind of rule that Ross needs. One might claim, though, that the concept of murder does have a similar content for all cultures. It is the content relating to the killing of in-group members, a content which, to be perfectly accurate, is not strictly universal; for qualifications and exceptions to the rule against in-group killing were noted, such as the differen tial in the seriousness of homicide according to the sta tus of the persons involved, and the right of one family member to take the life of another family member. Yet, granting that the concept of murder universally has the content of prohibiting in-group killing, this content will be of little benefit to Ross. If, as Ross claims, a per son has a prima facie duty not to injure another, the deduction to be made is not merely that killing in-group 129 members is wrong, but that killing anybody is wrong. Ob viously the duty not to kill in-group members is a further deduction from the general duty not to kill anybody. How ever, one cannot work back in the other direction; that is, one cannot deduce from the specific principle that killing in-group members is wrong the general principle that kill ing anybody is wrong. But the latter is precisely the prima facie principle that Ross must have if he is to be consistent with his own premises. The only way that the general principle that killing anybody is wrong could be deduced from the specific principle that killing in-group members is wrong would be to assume that the former princi ple is implicit in the latter. This, of course, is exactly what the cultural data shows not to be the case, for the principle that killing an in-group member is wrong often, perhaps usually, reduces to the principle that only the killing of in-group members is wrong. One could suggest that the principle that killing in-group members is wrong would be an adequate principle for Ross if by ’in-group" was meant ’all of mankind.' Ob viously if ’in-group" were used in this sense, then the principle that killing in-group members was wrong would be 130 t j i e same as the principle that killing anybody is wrong. The only fly in the ointment is that the meaning of 'in group' has been changed from its original usage. That is to say, the concept of an in-group, as it is presently be ing used, assumes the presence of those outside the in group. If the in-group is everybody, then the in-group, in its present sense, does not exist. If the hypothesis is made that other human-like inhabitants are present in the universe, then one is back to the original meaning of 'in group, ' but one is also back to the original problem of restricting the obligation not to kill to in-group members. Perhaps the best way of summarizing the points made about murder would be to note a statement by Macbeath. He says: It is true . . . that there is a way of interpreting moral rules according to which we may say that, as between the members of the in-group, many primitives recognise most, and some recognise all, the rules which we recognise as binding. . . . But according to this interpretation moral rules are mere tauto logies, not significant or synthetic statements. Moreover, the terms used in them have different meanings in different communities; and so the rules do not really tell us what conduct is considered right in different communities. If, e.g., by a lie 131 is meant not all deliberate telling of what is known to be untrue, but only such forms of untruth as are disapproved by the community to which the individual making the judgement belongs, if by homicide or adultery is meant only such killing of another human being or such intercourse between a married man and a woman not his wife as is disapproved by the parti cular society, then the propositions, that lies, homicide and adultery are wrong, are universal and self-evident among all peoples. But in that case the terms 'lie,' ’homicide,' and 'adultery' have dif ferent meanings in different communities, and in each community the propositions are merely verbal, indi cating how the terms are being used.^ In short, if a person is to refer to a significant moral universal, he must refer to what is universal, not merely in form, but in content. Therefore, the obligation not to kill, rather than the obligation not to murder, is the obligation that must be considered in any discussion of moral universals. Turning now to Ross's explanation of variation in moral obligation, we find that he contends that on examination the diversity of opinion, on moral questions i& found to rest not on disagreement about fundamental moral principles, but partly on differ ences in the circumstances of different societies, and partly on different views which people hold, not on moral questions but on questions of fact.-* ^A. Macbeath, Experiments in Living (London, 1952), p. 363. ^Ross, Foundations, p. 18. 132 He goes on to add that the more we examine differences of opinion on the media axiomata of morals, the more we shall find them not to depend on divergence on fundamental moral questions, but either on the different cir cumstances of the differing parties or on the different opinions they hold on ordinary matters of fact. (pp. 18-9) Thus, Ross maintains that differences in moral obligations can be explained largely by differences in circumstances or differences in opinions on factual matters. Differing circumstances and differing opinions on factual matters introduce new elements into a situation, and with the new elements come new prima facie duties that must be taken into account in the final ethical judgment. Now what this means, in effect, is that Ross holds to the view that basic duties are, as a matter of fact, generally recognized. His statement that "the more we examine differences of opinion on the media axiomata of morals, the more we shall find them not to depend on divergence on fundamental moral ques tions" is especially significant. One could easily take this statement as an indication that Ross implicitly as sumes that fundamental prima facie duties should be expect ed to be found universally. Actually, in the final analy sis, Ross's position on this point is not completely clear, 133 for in a later section of his book he strenuously rejects the notion that on his position one should be able to ex pect little variety in valuations (p. 269). Whether the same line of thinking would also be applied to moral intui tions is not at all certain. In any case, the position would still be maintained that Ross, on the grounds of his view of moral intuition, should expect to find universal recognition, at least implicitly, of fundamental moral in sights . The basic question at this point is whether differ ences in circumstances and differences in opinion on fac tual matters can explain the variations in moral obliga tion. With regard to differences in circumstances, Ross mentions that although blood-feud is approved in one so ciety but not in another, it is, in the circumstances of some societies, the only way of securing respect for life (p. 18). To be sure, blood-feud may function in some so cieties as a means toward securing respect for life. Yet, in a great number of the societies examined, blood-feud and blood-revenge had lost any utilitarian purpose, and had become ends in themselves. They were not looked upon essentially as means for securing respect for life, but as ends to be pursued without further reason, except that 134 perhaps feuding offered a suitable means of securing ex citement and honor. The fact that blood-feud can be a means for securing respect for life does not mean that it actually functions as such. In too many cases it does not. With regard to difference in opinion on factual matters, Ross’s position is not any better. Why are out siders seemingly excluded from the obligation not to kill? Is it because they are not considered to be human? This suggestion has been shown generally to be without merit. One group where it might apply is the Tiwi of Australia. Outsiders who landed on the islands 'fof the Tiwi] were massacred or vigorously resisted. . . . They were not Tiwi and hence not real people, or at least not human enough to share the islands with the chosen people who owned them. Thus, the word 'Tiwi1 did not mean 'people' in the sense of all human beings, but rather 'we, the only people' or the chosen people who live and own the islands, as distinct from any other alleged human beings who might show up from time to time on the beaches.^ Here the idea seems to be more that the Tiwi are superior human beings than that outsiders are not human beings at all. If this is so, then the question could be asked: Granting that obligation rests on the intuition of . W. M. Hart and Arnold Pilling, The Tiwi of North Australia (New York, 1960), pp. 9-10. 135 prima facie duties, is it not perfectly obvious that the killing of inferior human beings would still be intuited as a very grave wrong? Another suggestion that could be made is that reli gious beliefs alter the character of particular obliga tions. This suggestion also appears to be without sub stantial merit, especially if one agrees that a sizable portion of religious beliefs are essentially reflections of primary values and ethical insights. Granting, however, that religious beliefs are not reflective and secondary in nature, they still cannot always or even usually explain or justify the various practices of different cultures. For example, in the case of human sacrifice, one is left with the question of why in-group members are not sacrificed, or why greater tension is not experienced with respect to the sacrificing of outsiders. Or in the case of headhunt ing one is far from willing to admit that the need for "spiritual juice" justifies taking the life of outsiders. The only suggestion that has a degree of merit, at least with respect to the in-group limitation of the ob ligation not to kill, is that outsiders are looked upon as hostile enemies. Yet, the point was made many times that 136 the word 'enemy' often reduces simply to the word 'for eigner.' This is especially true in cases when far distant villages are ravaged, or when women and children are exter minated, or when the reasons for warfare reduce to such trivial matters as the desire for wealth, power, honor, or excitement. Thus, the view that differences in circumstances or in opinion on factual matters will go a long way toward explaining differences in the obligation not to kill seems to carry little force. However, Ross offers still another explanation for variation in obligations. He states that while all men are probably at bottom agreed in thinking we ought to produce as much that is good as we can, and agreed also as to the goodness of certain things— virtue, intelligent thought, and happiness--there is a real difference of opinion as to the comparative worth of different goods; and this is a difference not on an ordinary matter of fact but on a moral question. It is in this region--in the comparative valuation of things that are agreed to be valuable--that the source of many of our differences of moral opinion is to be found. (p. 19) The approach here is a variant of what Ross has said else where, namely, that in a particular situation several prima facie duties may be in conflict, the result being that different moral judgments may arise (p. 320). But can differences in the comparative evaluation of goods or of 137 moral obligations really explain even a limited portion of the cultural material? The values of excitement, honor, wealth, and power, values which, in many instances, serve as the motives for warfare or the killing of strangers, should not, on Ross's position, begin to compare in impor tance with the obligation not to kill. Similarly, property rights, which sometimes justify the killing of a slave or close kin, can hardly be placed in the same class, with regard to importance, as the obligation not to kill. And if it should be maintained that the importance of an obli gation is not given in a prima facie intuition, then the intuition may as well not exist, for the really significant issue in moral judgment is: How important is the obliga tion not to kill in relation to other obligations, rights, and values? Moreover, Ross does appear to hold that the comparative importance of an obligation is given in intui tion, for, as has been noted, he states that the duties prohibiting maleficence are stronger than the duties re quiring beneficence. If this kind of judgment can be made, then one could certainly say, without any difficulty at all, that the obligation not to kill is more important than property rights, or values such as honor, excitement, wealth, or power. 138 The situation, then, seems to be the reverse of what Ross says. The more one examines the cultural evi dence the more one is impressed with the divergence on fundamental moral questions. To be sure, one's position at this point depends to a large degree on his reaction to the cultural material. The material is certainly not incapable of being rationalized in terms of Ross's or anybody else's position. However, the simplest course does seem to be that one which recognizes the centrality of the value of in-group preservation and maintenance, and holds that ob ligations, at least for primitive people, are determined fundamentally in terms of this value. A person could take this point of view and still hold that the intuition of prima facie duties is the basis of moral obligation; for one could very well say that primitive people do, as a matter of fact, determine obligations wholly or primarily in terms of concrete values, particularly the value of in group preservation and maintenance, but primitive people are just incapable of arriving at basic moral intuitions, the reason being either that they have a completely dif ferent mode of thinking, or that they are inferior in their mental capacities. 139 Now this approach merits close attention. It raises the central problem of the nature of the primitive mind. Is the primitive mind different in kind? Is it greatly inferior to the mind of civilized people? Is it severely limited in its capacities, and, as a consequence, is it incapable of gaining basic moral insights? These ques tions have received a moderate amount of attention from numerous individuals. The nature of primitive thought and mentality. A position of considerable importance with respect to the nature of primitive thought and mentality is that of L^vy- Bruhl. L^vy-Bruhl concluded that primitive man has a dif ferent kind of thought process from civilized man. He refers to primitive man as prelogical, meaning by this that primitive man thinks basically according to the Law of Participation. To think according to the Law of Parti cipation is to think in such a manner that one conceives of himself as being in a mystical union with other persons and with objects. In other words, "objects, beings, pheno- ^Lucien L^vy-Bruhl, How Natives Think, trans. Lilian A. Clare (New York, 1925), p. 78. 140 raena can be, though in a way incomprehensible to us, both themselves and something other than themselves” (p. 76). In short, the prelogical mentality ignores the Law of Con tradiction. But not only does it ignore the Law of Contra diction, it also ignores or gives scant attention to both natural causal sequences and the teachings of experience (pp. 75, 78). It is important to note that L^vy-Bruhl stresses that primitive man thinks prelogically only in areas of thought and life dominated by collective representations, by which he refers to representations that are common to the members of a given social group; they are transmitted from one generation to another; they impress themselves upon its individual members, and awaken in them sentiments of respect, fear, and so on. (p. 13) Although L^vy-Bruhl does not lay down precise criteria whereby one can clearly determine when thinking is domi nated by collective representations and when it is not, and although he seems to argue at times as if all of prim itive man's thought is dominated by collective representa tions, the question that we shall seek to answer is whe ther primitive man thinks prelogically even in thought dominated by collective representations. That is, in terms 141 of thought related to collective representations, does primitive man really ignore natural causal connections, disregard experience, and involve himself, without concern, in outright contradictions? As for the Law of Contradiction, it will be discuss ed in the next section. For the present we shall simply state categorically that primitive man does not disregard the Law of Contradiction. As for natural causal connec tions, one would initially be inclined to maintain, not merely that they are ignored in thought relating to col lective representations, as L^vy-Bruhl contends, but that they are ignored in primitive man's thought generally. Yet closer inspection reveals that natural causal connections are not altogether neglected. Maquet, referring to the Rundi of the Belgian Congo, states what would probably hold for many primitive people with regard to natural causal connections. He observes that when recurrences have been observed or when 'causes' have been discovered in the sphere of human pheno mena, events happening according to these recurrences or following these causes are considered as intelli gible without any reference to the supernatural world. But when events cannot be explained by reference to natural antecedents or causes, or are surrounded by 142 peculiar circumstances, the intervention of ghosts or sorcerers is suspected and a diviner is consulted.® Thus, primitives do recognize natural causal sequences, particularly in the common, familiar events of everyday life. Where the primitive goes astray is in attributing strange events, and many times even very familiar events, to supernatural causes. In other words, the primitive is prone to find his causes for natural phenomena in the supernatural realm. Even if he has a natural cause, he will often consider it inadequate, and search for a more fundamental explanation in terms of a supernatural cause. The problem of the primitive, then, is that he has not developed adequate criteria for determining what will and what will not be accepted as a cause for natural events. In short, he does not limit his causes to phenomena that are capable of empirical testing and that give predictive power. But how many civilized people limit themselves to causes of this nature? And how many civilized people con sistently refrain from an appeal to supernatural causes for natural phenomena? ®Jacques J. Maquet, "The Kingdom of Ruanda," in African Worlds: Studies in the Cosmological Ideas and Social Values of African Peoples, ed. Daryll Ford (London, 1954), pp. 172-3. 143 As for learning from experience, one would again be inclined to agree generally with Levy-Bruhl. Primitives do not give adequate heed to experience. But do they real ly differ in this respect so greatly from their civilized brothers? People in our culture hold tenaciously to ideas and customs that are both inconsistent and non-utilitarian. One of the obvious reasons why ideas and customs are often so impervious to what would normally be considered negative evidence is that the evidence can always be rationalized. For example, Levy-Bruhl tells of a man who considered him self to have a mystic relationship with the alligator. On one occasion, despite this presumed relationship, he was attacked and severely injured in his leg by an alligator. When asked if he had retaliated on the alligator, he re plied in the negative, stating that the alligator must have mistaken him for a stranger.^ Similar rationalizations are found in great abundance throughout primitive people. These rationalizations always take the edge off negative evidence. In addition, the rationalizations also save primitive man from inconsistency, and consequently are ^Levy-Bruhl, p. 95. 144 evidence of logical processes in primitive thinking. The man who had been attacked by the alligator would not be caught in the trap of saying that he was mystically united with the alligator--which meant that the alligator was his friend--and yet agreeing that the alligator attacked him as an enemy. The alligator simply mistook him for an enemy 1 Although the experience of primitive man exerts only limited influence on his beliefs and behavior, it is not without all effect. Otherwise, how could primitive man ever progress above the prelogical level, a progression which Levy-Bruh1 readily admits? The fact is that primi tive man learns--albeit- very slowly--from experience. An example of how traditional beliefs are modified through experience is given by Pineda Giraldo. He notes the pro cess of change in beliefs among the Goajiro of Colombia. Not being able to understand the logical processes of life with its principal phenomena of birth, development, growth, old age, and death, the Indian looks for an explanation that agrees, at least in appearance, with his beliefs, with his limited capa city for knowledge, and he steadfastly adheres to the traditions received in cultural inheritance, traditions which all have a subjective flavor and in which the supernatural, the purely metaphysical-- even with the physical phenomenon itself--dominates 145 the intellectual and sensible panorama. If at first he attributed the phenomenon of birth to the super natural action, far off in space, of an animal, a plant, or other object which in course of time be came his totem in his mythical ancestor made divine, later his mental explorations try to find a new ex planation; his totem for different causes having now lost its value and only remaining with him as a vague memory, he tries to find, let us say, a new explanation which agrees better with the reality surrounding him.10 This quotation emphasizes, not merely that primitive man engages in mental exploration and seeks explanations that "agree better with the reality surrounding him," but it also stresses the penchant of primitive man for seeking supernatural or purely metaphysical causes for natural phenomena. The matter of importance, however, for the pre sent is that primitive man does learn from experience, al though very slowly. In sum, one could say that primitive thinking--as it relates to collective representations--gives far less emphasis to rational processes than does civilized think ing. However, to say that primitive thinking is prelogical --an altogether different kind of thinking--is to confuse the issue. And to say that it ignores the Law of Contra- ^^Roberto Pineda Giraldo, Aspects of Magic in La Guajira, translated from the Spanish for the HRAF by Sydney Muirden, p. 82. 146 diction is downright false. In any case, L^vy-Bruhl cer tainly does not show that primitive thought is different in kind from civilized thought. Boas is probably right in his statement to the effect that the basic distinction be tween primitive and civilized thought is not in some peculiarity of primitive thinking, but in the nature of the traditional ideas by which all of experience is inter preted . However, even if primitive thinking is the same in kind as civilized thinking, one can still maintain that the mental capacity of primitives is inferior to that of civilized people. Radin, whose main objective seems to be to show, in opposition to Levy-Bruhl, that primitive and civilized thinking is similar in kind, also shows the similarity in mental capacity. He cites numerous instances of advanced levels of thought. For example, he notes of the Winnebago that as embodied in the precepts ... of the moralists among primitive people, it tth e Winnebago system of ethics J teaches the highest type of conduct that man can attain anywhere--the right of every man to happiness and to freedom of expression in consonance with his particular capacities and temperament, the ^^Franz Boas, The Mind of Primitive Man (New York, 1938), p. 220. 147 recognition of the limitation imposed upon this freedom of personal expression by human relation ships; and finally, the full responsibility each man must assume for his actions. ^ In other words, primitive mentality is capable of arriving at as high ethical notions as are found anywhere among civilized people. Radin continues his discussion by empha sizing that the capacity of primitive thought is shown further by the fact that symbolic and mystical elements in primitive beliefs are often elaborated in a highly con scious manner (p. 212). In addition, he remarks that thinkers among all primitive groups show an interest in problems of origins (p. 320), and he observes that thinkers among the Maori and Dakota in particular had begun to deal with some of the other traditional problems of philosophy. Both among the Maori and Oglala Dakota, thinkers had begun to wrestle with some of the eternal prob lems of philosophy; what it is we perceive when we see an object; what it is that bestows form upon an object; and finally, what it is that gives the gods reality. (p. 320) To be sure, Radin stresses that thinkers in primitive cul tures are very few, and that their views often differ from the non-thinkers or persons of action (p. 255). But is 19 " “Paul Radin, Primitive Man As Philosopher (New York, 1957), p. 96. 148 this not completely analogous to civilized cultures? In short, Radin holds that primitive man is similar in men tal capacity to civilized man. This point is given further attention by Macbeath, who,after surveying the positions of numerous anthropolo gists, makes the following remarks. I think we may . . . accept the conclusion of the overwhelming majority of trained field workers and anthropologists that there are no good grounds for believing in the existence of such differences [i.e. differences between the innate powers of the primitive and the civilized mind]. ... It [this conclusion] is quite compatible with the belief that there may be a larger proportion of outstanding individuals among one people, and that the talents of their most outstanding individuals may reach a rather higher level. But it does mean that there is no difference of principle between the primitive and the civilised mind and that the innate endowment of the great majority of individuals in different cultures is much the same. . . . If it is true, it means that the moral consciousness of man is everywhere the same, and that such differences as we find in the moral judgements of different peoples . . . cannot be attributed to differences in the innate constitu tion or powers of their minds.^-3 Instead of resting content with what has been said so far concerning the nature and capacity of the primitive mind 'as compared to the civilized mind, possibly it would •^Macbeath, op. cit. , p. 288. 149 be beneficial to attempt a more critical test of the capa city of the primitive mind, particularly with reference to the question of moral insight. This may be done in the following manner. Ross has drawn an analogy between mathematical and moral intuition. One would assume that the same analogy would hold between logical and moral intuition. If this is so, then the hypothesis could be made that if a fundamental logical intuition--like the Law Of Contradiction--is uni versally recognized, a fundamental moral intuition--like the prima facie obligation not to kill--ought to be univer sally recognized also. This hypothesis involves the assumption that although logical intuitions are analytic, whereas ethical intuitions are, according to Ross, synthe tic, the distinction between analytic and synthetic intui tions should not be sufficient to modify the expectation of universality with respect to basic ethical intuitions as opposed to basic logical intuitions. The reasons for using logical rather than mathema tical intuition as the analogue of ethical intuition are several. In the first place, mathematical intuition is present or absent in a culture according to the occasions 150 for using mathematics or geometry. And many cultures have only limited, if any, occasion for using them. Moreover, even when they are employed, one cannot always decide whether or not they involve anything beyond strictly empir ical procedures, such as manipulating empirical designs, or placing two more pebbles in a line of pebbles in order to carry out addition. In any case, the material on mathe matics in primitive cultures is not extensive enough to permit an adequate judgment on the question of the univer sality of the intuitions involved. On the other hand, the material on logic is more abundant, although still somewhat limited. In addition, the occasions for using logic, like the occasions for making moral judgments, are always and forever present to a person and a culture. And further more, when logical principles are employed, one is not confronted with the problem of deciding whether or not merely empirical procedures are involved. Logic in cultures. After a cursory review of cul tural facts, the supposition might be made, with L^vy- Bruhl, that primitive man thinks in a way that simply dis regards the Law of Contradiction. However, a closer scru tiny of the facts reveals otherwise. 151 Evans-Pritchard makes a very penetrating analysis of certain Nuer phrases which, at first glance, appear to be self-contradictory. He begins his discussion with the phrase, 'twins are not two persons, they are one person.1 He states: When they say 'twins are not two persons, they are one person' they are not saying that they are one individual but that they have a single personality. . . . They would not say that twins of the same sex were one . . . boy, or one . . . girl, but they do say, whether they are of the same sex or not, that they are one . . . person. Their single social personality is something over and above their physi cal duality.^ Another apparently contradictory phrase is, 'a twin is a bird.’ Evans-Pritchard has the following to say about this phrase. There seems to be a complete contradiction in the statement, and it was precisely on statements of this kind recorded by observers of primitive peo ples that L^vy-Bruhl based his theory of the pre- logical mentality of these peoples, its chief characteristic being, in his view, that it permits such evident contradictions--that a thing can be what it is and at the same time something altogether different. But, in fact, no contradiction is in volved in the statement, which, on the contrary, appears quite sensible, and even true, to one who presents the idea to himself in the Nuer language and within their system of religious thought. He does not then take their statements about twins •^Edward Evans-Pritchard, Nuer Religion (Oxford, 1956), p. 128. 152 any more literally than they make and understand them themselves. They are not saying that a twin has a beak, feathers, and so forth. Nor in their everyday relations with twins do Nuer speak of them as birds or act towards them as though they were birds. They treat them as what they are, men and women. But in addition to being men and women they are of a twin-birth, and a twin-birth is a special revelation of Spirit; and Nuer express this special character of twins in the 'twins are birds' formula because twins and birds, though for different reasons, are both associated with Spirit and this makes twins, like birds, 'people of the above* and 'children of God,' and hence a bird a suitable symbol in which to express the special rela tionship in which a twin stands to God. . . . The formula does not express a dyadic relationship between twins and birds but a triadic relationship between twins, birds, and God. In respect to God twins and birds have a similar character. (pp. 131-2) Evans-Pritchard analyzes other phrases such as 'crocodile is spirit' or 'light is spirit' in much the same manner. His general conclusion is as follows. Anthropological explanations display two main errors. The first, best exemplified in the writings of L^vy- Bruhl, is that when a people say that something is something else which is different they are contra vening the Law of Contradiction and substituting for it a law of their own prelogical way of thinking, that of mystical participation. I hope at least to have shown that Nuer do not assert identity between the two things. They may say that one is the other and in certain situations act towards it as though it were the other, or something like it, but they are aware, no doubt with varying degrees of aware ness, and readily say, though with varying degrees of clarity and emphasis, that the two things are different. Moreover, it will have been noted that in the seemingly equivocal statements we have con sidered, with perhaps one exception [twins are birds] , the terms cannot be reversed. (p. 140) 153 The conclusion of Evans-Pritchard, namely, that seemingly contradictory statements are upon closer analy sis not contradictory, could probably be applied to any single statement of any culture. The fact that primitive man is often quite consis tent in terms of his own presuppositions is also empha sized by Evans-Pritchard. Referring to the Azande of the Belgian Congo, he remarks that their mind is logical and inquiring within the framework of its culture and insists on the coherence of its own idiom. If witchcraft is an organic substance its presence can be ascertained by post-mortem search. If it is hereditary it can be discovered in the belly of a close male kinsman of a witch as surely as in the belly of the witch himself.^ Thus, a man accused of being a witch will, in order to prove his innocence, perform a post-morten search for the witchcraft substance in a son that has died. This kind of activity reveals not only the consistency of the thinking of the Azande in terms of his own presuppositions, but also the ability of the Azande to engage in a moderate level of deductive reasoning. Respect for the Law of Contradiction is evidenced ^Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande (Oxford, 1937), p. 42. 154 in another aspect of primitive thinking which has already been briefly considered, namely, rationalization. The primitive man may believe the greatest absurdities, but he will not fall into patent inconsistency. Several further examples may help to clarify this point. Monteil tells of a Bambara man named, Niany, who was supposed to be able to cure snake bites. A woman who had been the object of his arts lived, while a baby died. 'When I went to Niany to congratulate him on his remarkable cure, I reminded him of the death of the child who had been treated in the same way. The singular logic of the blacksmith's reply has no doubt been encountered before: "that's not at all strange," he told me, "since my remedy cures only those who believe in it and the little child did not believe." What is noteworthy for our purposes is that the singular logic of the blacksmith at least saved him from inconsis tency . Gomes relates an interesting practice of the Dyaks of Borneo when they build a house. During the building of the house, there is a great deal of striking of gongs and other noisy instruments to prevent any birds of ill omen being heard. I have sometimes argued with the Dyaks that if the warnings of the birds are to be trusted, then why make so much 1 fi Charles Monteil, The Bambara of S^gou and Kaarta, translated from the French for the HRAF by Kathryn Looney, p. 145. 155 noise to prevent hearing them? The Dyaks1 reply to this was that as long as they did not hear the warning, the spirits would not be displeased at their not regarding it; so to spare themselves the trouble of choosing another site and building an other house, they make so much noise as to drown the cries of any birds.^ It should be observed that the reply of the Dyaks reveals not merely that their noisy action had been ration alized in such a manner that it could be made consistent with their beliefs about birds of ill omen, but also that religious beliefs had been, without any hesitation, ac commodated to personal desires. This is just another bit of evidence pointing to the secondary nature of many reli gious beliefs. On the general subject of logical reasoning, Chew- ings has the following to say concerning the Aranda of Australia. Anything having tangible existence the natives grasp readily enough; but on things abstruse, or existing in the mind only they seem unable to con centrate. And yet they must have good reasoning ability to be so proficient as trackers; for per ception alone--quite a remarkable feature with them--will not make a good tracker. From what they see they deduce where the animal, or man, is making for, and that carries them over parts and places 17 Edwin H. Gomes, Seventeen Years among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo (London, 1911), p. 49. 156 where no tracks are visible. Probably more remark able still is their ability to tell how old a track is, and to whom or what it belongs. They know the track of everything they have to do with, be it man, woman, child, or beast. And you cannot deceive them in this matter for they have observed certain pecu liarities and reasoned them to finality. The exact nature of primitive reasoning in tracking is not easy to determine. Further investigation and in quiry would be helpful. However, tracking at least re quires consistency in classification, and it probably also involves certain forms of inductive and deductive reason ing. In any case,the point is that tracking is a wide spread activity among primitive peoples. The logic in volved in tracking must be just as widespread. Consistency in classification is further evidenced among the Murngin of Australia. Warner states that the Murngin divide everything into two categories. He goes on to observe that the allocation is made by an association that some times seems irrational to a European but is perfectly reasonable to the native mind. When one inquires into the underlying concept back of such seeming syncretisms, the reasoning is as justifiable, granted the premise, as for our own classifications. 9 lO Charles Chewings, Back in the Stone Age: The Na tives Of Central Australia (Sydney, 1936), p. 18. 19w. Lloyd Warner, A Black Civilization: A Social Study of an Australian Tribe (New York, 1937), p. 30. 157 Primitive man, then, seems well aware of the neces sity to be consistent and to show respect for the Law of Contradiction. Moreover, he gives evidence on some occa sions of a moderate level of reasoning ability. To be sure, primitive man, as many of his so-called civilized brothers, is neither rigorous nor systematic in applying the Law of Contradiction, just as his reasoning in general is neither rigorous nor systematic. Williams makes a num ber of very incisive observations on primitive thinking in his discussion of the beliefs of the Orokaiva of New Guinea. Whereas a modern educated mind must be continually raking over its beliefs and conscientiously casting out any inconsistencies, the mind of the native (like the mind of an uneducated modern--only more so) re mains blissfully unaware of these inconsistencies. . . . Where we find uniformity of practice we may also find a variety of theoretical explanations, and the same informant may cheerfully switch from one explanation to another, or simply declare that 'he doesn't know.’ In fine, natives are unable or reluctant to formulate their beliefs; the beliefs when formulated are often inconsistent with one an other; and not less often they are light, inexact, variable things, qualified with a non-commital 'perhaps' or 'who knows?'20 The basic question is whether the native is reluc tant or unable to formulate his beliefs. That primitive ^^Francis E. Williams, Orokaiva Society (London 1930), p. 260. 158 people can carry out logical procedures with some degree of ability was seen in the case of tracking. Of course, tracking is essential to life and sustenance, and one could say, therefore, that the level of thought involved in tracking is required for survival. However, in the case of most beliefs survival is hardly at issue. As a result, thought is simply not strongly motivated, and is exercised only to a very limited degree. The fact that several dif ferent explanations are offered and that beliefs are held as "light, inexact, variable things" reveals that the con sistency of the beliefs is just not considered to be impor tant. Yet, the word 'reluctant1 does not fully explain primitive thinking. The word 'unable' must also be ap plied, not, of course, in the sense that primitives do not have the mental capacity, but in Boas's sense that their traditional customs and beliefs have not prepared them to use their rational processes fully. Those whose mode of thinking has not been directed to a reasoned, critical analysis of all of experience, but has been directed in such a manner that abstract thinking is shunned, while immediate, concrete forms of thought are followed, cannot, without much training and a complete change of traditional 159 background material, begin to indulge in abstract compari sons of a sustained nature. Malinowski makes several additional points concern ing the nature of primitive beliefs. He states: My experience in the field has persuaded me of the complete futility of the theories which attribute to the savage a different type of mind and different logical faculties. The native is not 'prelogical' in his beliefs, he is alogical, for belief or dog matic thinking does not obey the law of logic among savages any more than among ourselves. Malinowski does not say precisely what he means by 'alog ical.1 However, he probably has in mind something similar to Boas's contention that traditional customs and beliefs are largely automatic and emotional in origin and nature, and so are highly resistant not only to change, but even 22 to logical inquiry. One immediately thinks of certain of our religious beliefs, such as the Doctrine of the Trinity, which are, at least in the common religious consciousness, beyond all logical inquiry. To be sure, not all beliefs among primitives hold such a sacred status, for as was previously noted some beliefs are considered to be trivial ^Bronislaw Malinowski, "Baloma: The Spirits of the Dead in the Trobriand Islands," Jour, of the Royal Anthro. Institute of Great Brit, and Ireland, XLVI (1916), foot note 1, p. 418. 22 Boas, op. cit. (above, note 10), p. 239. 160 and unimportant, and the failure to maintain consistency arises simply from the failure to care about the beliefs. Yet, certain beliefs undoubtedly do have a sacred status, and are considered to be outside the realm of legitimate logical inquiry and investigation. The difficulty is in determining precisely when a belief is of the sacred type and when it is of the trivial, unimportant type. Although the exact status of beliefs is not always easy to determine in a particular instance, the evidence is clear that logic is sometimes applied to traditional beliefs. Several examples may suffice to illustrate this point. Fortes reports that the Tallensi of Ghana hold that human beings originally sprang from the earth. How ever, one of the elders said: 'A human being can't emerge sprouting out of the earth. The rain falls, and the millet comes up, trees come up, grass comes up; but we have never seen a human being sprout up.1 When I tried to defend [the myth} . . . he countered triumphantly: 'And if their ancestors really sprouted up, why don't they let a person sprout again?*^3 Marshall notes the following change of belief among the Bushmen of South Africa. ^Meyer Fortes, The Dynamics of Clanship among the Tallensi (London, 1949), p. 23. 161 This God of Kung and the Heikum in the past was not the death-giver. The old Gauwa . . . held that role. But now, in believing that the great god of the east is all-powerful, the Kung have logically attributed to him the control over death, and hold him ultimately responsible for it.^ In sum, one could say that although the cultural evidence is not as thorough or clear-cut as could be de sired, with much further investigation still being needed, the evidence that is available seems to indicate that prim itive man does universally recognize at least the Law of Contradiction, and, on some occasions, further logical principles or methods of reasoning. This "recognition" is undoubtedly rather difficult to define with precision. On the one hand, a primitive man, if asked to state a logical principle, would most certainly not be able to do so. Yet, on the other hand, primitive man uses words and phrases consistently, does not identify in all respects two ob viously different things, classifies consistently in terms of his own presuppositions, offers explanations consistent at least with thd limited range of facts immediately pres ent to his thinking, seeks to avoid contradictions of which 24Lorna Marshall, "Kung Bushman Religious Beliefs," Africa, XXXII (1962), 234. 162 he becomes or is made aware, and sometimes logically de duces conclusions from premises. In this sense one can say that primitive man recognizes the Law of Contradiction. To be sure, he does not apply the Law or any other princi ple rigorously or systematically. He fails particularly when he is called upon to exercise a degree of abstract thinking. This is probably the reason why individual statements are not self-contradictory, but statements with in a system of beliefs are often contradictory. The com parison of different beliefs requires much more abstraction than the comparison of words in a single statement. If the Law of Contradiction is universally recog nized in the sense mentioned above, then one would initial ly expect a similar degree and kind of universal recogni tion for the prima facie obligation not to kill. That is to say, one would not necessarily expect to find an expli cit, articulate recognition of the obligation, but one would expect to find actions and decisions measurably in fluenced by the ethical principle that a person has an ob ligation not to kill another. Of course, the material on logic, besides pointing to the universal recognition of the Law of Contradiction, may also have afforded reasons for 163 holding to the position that the prima facie obligation not to kill, even though recognized universally, is not applied or followed under certain circumstances. To be specific, one could maintain with reference to outsiders that they are killed, not because the obligation not to kill them is not recognized, but because the custom of killing outsiders, inasmuch as it is a sacred custom, takes precedence over the obligation not to kill outsiders. This form of reasoning is similar to that involved in the case of the Law of Contradiction, concerning which it was noted that two contradictory beliefs, because of their sacred status, may be thought to be beyond the legitimate appli cation of the Law. This position, namely, that sacred custom takes precedence over the obligation not to kill, is difficult to object to in a decisive manner. To begin with, one is not at all clear as to the precise criteria for determin ing whether or not a custom is sacred; hence, one can never be certain whether such a custom as killing outsiders has a sacred status. Yet, granting that the killing of outsiders is a sacred custom in many cultures, one would still think that second thoughts, conflicts, and tensions would be present with regard to the custom. It will be remembered that the assumption at this point is that the obligation not to kill outsiders is, as a matter of fact, recognized--at least implicitly. This assumption was con sidered to be reasonable because of the parallel that was drawn between the Law of Contradiction and the general ob ligation not to kill. The reasonableness of the assumption can be further pointed up, not only by the observation that the concrete situation of attacking an outsider provides an individual with an opportunity for intuiting the obligation not to kill the outsider, but also by the observation that since the attacking of outsiders is a very frequent, repe titive form of behavior in many cultures, the intuition not to kill the outsider would seem to have a good chance of occurring at least once. In any case, if the assumption is granted that the obligation not to kill the outsider is intuited, then it is obvious that in the concrete situa tion of attacking an outsider the intuition not to kill him stands in direct contrast to the custom of killing out siders for trivial purposes; and little abstraction is re quired to apprehend the contrast. In the section on logic it was noted that certain modifications were made in some traditional beliefs as a result of consistent reasoning. 165 Now the comparison of religious or tribal beliefs would seem to require a higher level of abstract thinking than the concrete comparisons involved in basic ethical deci sions. Consequently, why should not traditional customs regarding the killing of outsiders be called into question more often? The problem at this point is that one does not find the positive evidence that he would expect to find upon the assumption that the prima facie obligation not to kill is intuited universally. In the case of the Law of Contra diction, it was observed that an awareness of inconsistency brought an immediate corrective explanation. The man who said that he could cure snake bites immediately ration alized the case of the child who was not cured. Yet, in many cultures the evidence is singularly lacking with re gard to any serious efforts to rationalize or justify the killing of outsiders. One immediately recalls, for exam- ple, the attitude toward outsiders among the Rundi of the Belgian Congo (cf. pp. 75, 76), and the Mundurucu of Ama zonia (cf. pp. 80, 81). Of course, some cultures do seek to justify the killing of outsiders in terms of custom; but it is not clear whether this form of justification 166 should be looked upon as a serious appeal to sacred, re vered custom, or whether it should be looked upon merely as a habitual, somewhat unconcerned reaction regarding a prac tice that is not thought to need any justification at all. The latter alternative certainly cannot be ruled out, par ticularly in view of the kind of appeal to custom that is found, for example, among the Dyaks of Borneo (cf. pp. 81, 82). In short, numerous cultures just do not see any serious need for justifying the killing of outsiders. This seems particularly strange, inasmuch as the obligation not to kill would be expected to have a status of extreme im portance. It was noted that consistency in beliefs was not required in many instances, because the beliefs were con sidered to be trivial and unimportant. One can easily say concerning an unimportant belief: "Who knows?" But the killing or preserving of other persons is closely related to survival. Why, then, can outsiders be dispatched with such ease and freedom from internal conflict? Conclusion In sum, the cultural evidence supports the conclu sion that the prima facie obligation not to kill is not 167 universally recognized. However, even granting this con clusion, the position of Ross is still not dealt a fatal blow, for one could object to the generalization that the Law of Contradiction is universally recognized; or one could object to the assumption that the intuition of the prima facie duty not to kill should have the same univer sality as the intuition of the Law of Contradiction. Now the latter objection is especially difficult to meet, particularly if one is not absolutely precise in defining the exact conditions--including level of mental develop ment, and degree of attention and abstraction--required for arriving at basic ethical intuitions. Ross, on his part, has only defined the conditions of ethical intuition generally and, we would say, vaguely. As a result, the argument, as it now stands in this chapter, involves num erous assumptions, analogies, and hypothetical inferences. In short, the argument is too speculative to claim anything close to proof or certainty. Perhaps the most that can be said is that the cultural material raises a number of serious questions relative to Ross's pofcition--questions which Ross has not begun to answer adequately. CHAPTER V THE CENTRALITY OF THE IN-GROUP The cultural evidence appears to indicate that for primitive people obligation is determined largely, probably wholly, in terms of concrete, immediate values. The one value that stands out as absolutely central is that of in group preservation and maintenance. The importance and universality of this value can be seen by the place that loyalty to the in-group has throughout the world cultures. Linton states that "loyalty to any social unit to which the individual belongs is always regarded as a virtue, dis loyalty a vice."^ But what is the real significance of in group preservation and maintenance? Is it an ultimate value, or does it point to more primary values? And what does all this imply for the basis of obligation? Could not ■hlalph Linton, "Universal Ethical Principles: An Anthropological View," in Moral Principles of Action, ed. Ruth Nanda Anshen (New York, 1952), p. 655. 168 169 the universality of the obligation to be loyal to the in group indicate that at least one prima facie obligation is intuited universally? Numerous anthropologists hold that the in-group is the means of meeting certain basic human needs. Kluckhohn, for example, after noting the immense variety among cul tures, asks whether or not limits are present, imposed by biological,- psychological, and other regularities, beyond which social variation cannot go. He answers that in spite of the fact that no precise system of basic limits has been formulated, a generalized framework does exist, from which 2 a start may be made. He goes on to add in another place: All cultures constitute so many somewhat distinct answers to essentially the same questions posed by human biology and by the generalities of the human situation. Every society's patterns for living must provide approved and sanctioned ways for dealing with such universal circumstances as the existence of two sexes; the helplessness of infants; the need for satisfaction of the elementary biological require ments such as food, warmth, and sex; the presence of individuals of different ages and of different physical and other capacities. . . . Cooperation to obtain subsistence and for other ends requires a certain minimum of reciprocal be havior, of a standard system of communications, and ^Clyde Kluckhohn, "Universal Categories of Culture," in Anthropology Today, ed. A. L. Kroeber (Chicago, 1953), pp. 517, 520-1. 170 indeed of mutually accepted values.^ Linton, in a similar vein, remarks that behind the seemingly endless diversity of culture patterns there is a fundamental uniformity. . . . Every culture has to provide for the same basic physiological and psychological needs of individuals. Florence Kluckhohn likewise states that "it is assumed that there is a limited number of common human problems for which all people at all times must find some solution.1^ She maintains the centrality of biological considerations, for she says that we do hold to the position that the ’causal1 influence of the biologically given predispositions toward di rectiveness has a distinctive nature which both sets it apart from other aspects of the evaluative process and also makes it the most critically important single element for the conceptualization of value orientations. (p. 7) In short, these anthropologists maintain that cul tures are simply so many different attempts at meeting the universals of the human situation. In other words, the ^Kluckhohn, "Universal Values and Anthropological Relativism," in Modern Education and Human Values, Pitcairn-Crabbe Foundation Lecture Series, IV (1952), pp. 102-3. ^Linton, op. cit., p. 646. ^Florence Kluckhohn and Fred L. Strodtbeck, Varia tions in Value Orientations (Evanston, 1961), p. 10. 171 reason for the formation of people into groups is to meet certain basic human needs. And this is presumably the rea son for the commitment to the in-group. The in-group is the primary unit of need satisfaction. Therefore, commit ment to it is quite fundamental. As Linton says: "Among the values involved in ethical systems, that of insuring the perpetuation and successful functioning of the society always takes first place.Thus, loyalty to the in-group does not rest on the intuition of a prima facie obligation, but on the apprehension of the fact that certain values can be attained only or primarily through group loyalty. Possibly the significance of the in-group in relation to basic needs can be made clearer by noting several observa tions by Murdock, which he makes concerning the family (an in-group within the in-group) and the in-group. With reference to the family he remarks that whatever larger familial forms may exist, and to whatever extent the greater unit may assume some of the burdens of the lesser, the nuclear family is always recognizable and always has its distinc tive and vital functions--sexual, economic, repro ductive, and educational.^ ^Linton, op. cit., p. 659. ^George Peter Murdock, Social Structure (New York, 1949), p. 3. 172 Thus, the nuclear family, which consists essentially of husband, wife, and their offspring, is universal, and its universality, according to Murdock, rests on its social utility. He states in another place that no society . . . has succeeded in finding an adequate substitute for the nuclear family, to which it might transfer these functions [i.e., sexual, economic, reproductive, and educational functions]. It is highly doubtful whether any society ever will succeed in such an attempt. (p. 11) Murdock then turns to the community or in-group, which he defines as 'the maximal group of persons who normally reside together in face-to-face association.' The com munity and the nuclear family are the only social groups that are genuinely universal. They occur in every known human society, and both are also found in germinal form on a subhuman level. (p. 79) The function of the community is stated to be as follows. Community organization provides individuals with increased opportunities for gratification through social intercourse, with more abundant sustenance through cooperative foodgetting techniques, and with insurance against temporary incapacity or adversity through mutual aid and sharing. To these advantages may be added protection through numbers and the economies possible with specialization and a division of labor. The chances of survival thus seem to be materially enhanced through community organization, and this, together with the directly perceived gains, doubtless accounts for its univer sality. (p. 80) 173 Murdock concludes by saying that "united by recipro cal relationships and bound by a common culture, the mem bers of a community form an 'in group,' characterized by internal peace,law, order, and cooperative effort" (p. 83). In view of the immense utility of the in-group, it is not at all surprising that commitment to the in-group should be so central. Moreover, it is not at all surpris ing that certain practices should be either universally en joined or prohibited. In terms of this latter point, one illustration may suffice. Perhaps one of the most nearly universal ethical re quirements relates to the prohibition of incest. Murdock states that the only type of sex regulation which is genuinely universal is that associated with kinship. The prohibitory regulations of this type fall into two principal categories: incest taboos and exogomous restrictions. (p. 267) As incest taboos, he remarks that with the exception of married parents, incest taboos apply universally to all persons of opposite sex within the nuclear family. . . . Aside from a few rare and highly restricted exceptions, there is complete universality in this respect. In view of these remarks by Murdock, an intuitionist like Ross could hold that the prohibition of incest is intuited 174 as a prima facie duty. However, Murdock interprets the restriction in the following manner. No form of conflict is more disruptive [of the nuclear family] than sexual competition and jealousy. The reduction of sexual rivalry between parents and children and between siblings consoli dates the family as a cooperative social group, promotes the efficiency of its societal services, and thus strengthens that society as a whole, (p. 295) The focus of attention here is on the nuclear family rather than the in-group. Yet the same considerations would ap ply to the in-group. Incest prohibitions are universal because of their high utility for the successful function ing of the nuclear family and of the in-group. The incest prohibition is at best a means to an end. The intuition of prima facie duties is simply not required as an explana tion . Conclusion In sum, one is again aware that the cultural mate rial does not point to the intuition of prima facie obli gations. Rather it points to the fact that among primi tives obligation rests on the achievement of certain basic values. In other words, obligation is directed toward the attainment of value. This fact does not prove that obli gation should rest on this basis alone. It only shows 175 that among primitive people it does. In order to show more precisely the nature of moral obligation among prim itives, and in order to arrive at a suitable ultimate ground for moral obligation, it now becomes necessary to engage in an analysis of the ought of moral obligation. CHAPTER VI THE NATURE OF THE OUGHT If, for primitive people, obligation rests on, and is directed toward, the attainment of value, then the moral ought among primitives reduces essentially to what has been called the prudential ought. The prudential ought has a rather straight-forward, unambiguous meaning. For example, if a person desires to go from city A to city B as quickly as possible, and route X is faster than route Y, then we say that he ought to take route X. What we mean is that the only reasonable action, in view of the goals of the person, is to take route X. If he took route Y, while still maintaining that he wished to go from A to B as quickly as possible, we would say that he was un reasonable, or even that he was a fool. To be sure, one is faced with the difficulty of defining the word 1 reason able.' The word is one of those ultimate words which, escape general definition. Perhaps, then, the best pro cedure is simply to specify the conditions, one by one, under which something would be called reasonable. In the present case, if someone says that he has a certain goal, 176 177 we say that he Is not acting reasonably. Reasonable action is action which seeks to bring one to his goals. Or more precisely, reasonable action is action which follows a course that appears to be the course that will bring one to his goals. This is an assumption, but it seems to be an assumption based on a cognitive insight. This assumption will be referred to subsequently as Assumption I. Now the question arises as to the general value goal of man. Is it merely this value or that, or is it something more comprehensive? Our contention would be that the goal of man is something more comprehensive. It is to maximize value. Obviously the analysis of the cul tural data in this dissertation has been too restricted to prove that the goal of primitive man is to maximize value. Attention has been centered on only one obligation in a whole series of possible moral obligations. However, it has been repeatedly stressed that primitive man seeks through his morality to attain certain values. This is especially clear as one considers the loyalty of primitive man to the in-group. The preservation of the in-group is a fundamental value, and it is the means toward achieving even more fundamental values. Thus, if primitive man seeks, through loyalty to the in-group, to achieve certain fundamental values, one could easily go on to say that 178 primitive man is loyal to the in-group because he sees the way of life of the in-group as the best life, the life bringing the greatest value. Of course, one might object that the way of life of the in-group is the only life that the primitive man ever considers, and that, therefore, the word 'best' or the phrase ’greatest value’ is somewhat out of place. Yet, this objection does not seem to be altogether valid, for primitive man is faced with a limited number of options, such as being a non-conformist, going to another tribe, living in solitude, or committing suicide. Some individuals do choose these various options. Consequently, it seems quite reasonable to assert that since primitive man i3 confronted with various options, which, it will be granted, he may give only cursory atten tion, his loyalty to the in-group, even to the point of sacrificing his own life, appears to indicate that from his standpoint commitment to the in-group and its way of life is the means of achieving the greatest value. Macbeath, whose survey of primitive morality is more comprehensive in nature, arrives at a conclusion similar to ours. He states: I find no evidence of any primitive people who recognise any rule as right unless general compliance with it in the spirit of their way of life seems to them, in the light of their view of the human situation, likely to result in a state of affairs 179 or to contribute to a form of life which they regard as on the whole good.l In short, Macbeath notes that primitive moral obligation is aimed not merely at achieving some value or other, but at achieving a life considered "as on the whole good." If one contends that this phrase does not clearly refer to the good life or the life of maximum value, one needs only to refer to a later passage (p. 378) in which Macbeath asserts that one general rule embodied in every culture is the rule to produce as much good as possible. Therefore, it appears that implicit in primitive morality is the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value. This principle also seems to be implicit among civilized people. The distinction between the civilized person and the primitive person arises essen tially out of the manner in which the principle is pursued. The primitive person, due to his limited interest and ability in abstract thinking, centers his attention on immediate, concrete values, and does not pursue his sub ject in a systematic, ordered way. Many civilized people think in much the same fashion. However, other persons, who might be referred to as the truly civilized, think in terms of the total value situation, considering abstract and distant as well as concrete and immediate values, and ■^A. Macbeath, Experiments in Living (London, 1952), p. 374. 180 pursue their subject in a systematic, ordered way. However, at this point the following question could be raised. Is not the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value very similar to the principle that one ought not to commit murder? In other words, just as the concept of murder is variously defined in terms of specific content from culture to culture, so, it could be main tained, the concept of value is also variously defined in terms of specific content from culture to culture, the result being that the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value is no less formal and no less empty than the principle that one ought not to commit murder. To begin with, it would be admitted that values are most decidedly culturally conditioned and influenced, so that what is considered to be a value varies enormously from culture to culture. However, an exact parallel cannot be drawn between the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value and the principle that one ought not to commit murder. The latter principle reduces to a tautology, whereas the former does not. The principle that one ought to seek to maximize value becomes a tautol ogy only if value is defined as that which one ought to seek to maximize. Yet, if the concept of value has a different content from culture to culture, the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value is merely formal, 181 inasmuch as what Is considered as value in one culture may be considered as disvalue in another. If one is left with this state of affairs, then he certainly cannot claim that the principle that one ought to seek to maxi mize value is implicitly recognized by all peoples. One can make such a claim only if value has a similar content for all peoples. The question is whether the concept of value does have similar content for all peoples. Ostensibly it does not, for what is specifically considered to be a value in one culture may be a disvalue in another. One might claim, though, that cultures do, in essence, agree in giving a similar definition and content to the basic con cept of value. Variation arises because the definition is not followed consistently or systematically. Now this approach could not be taken with reference to murder. To be sure, a common content can be found for the concept of murder, namely, the content relating to the restriction of in-group killing. However, this is a content that would be much too narrow for a number of cultures. These cultures would not agree in giving to murder the defini tion which limits murder to the killing of In-group members. Moreover, they would not want to follow out such a definition consistently and systematically, for the definition will never lead one to any other conclusion 182 than that killing in-group members is wrong. But many cultures do want to say that murder involves other acts than merely the act of killing in-group members. In other words, variation in the content of murder from culture to culture arises because cultures vary in their definition of murder, rather than that they do not follow out some basic definition consistently. What, then, is the situation with, regard to value? Does value in its basic conception have a similarity in content for all cultures? This question is not capable of a definite answer, for the cultural material is ambig uous, permitting one to read his own definitions of value into the data being examined. A great deal of research would be needed before a satisfactory conclusion could be reached. Yet, our limited material has shown that a universal value is that of in-group preservation and maintenance. This value was shown to be, not an ultimate, but a means toward realizing other more fundamental values, such as the satisfaction of biological, emotional, and social needs. In other words, value in its basic conception does seem to be universally linked with human need-satisfaction. If this is so, then one could say that variety in value arises because people do not pursue consistently, systematically, or intelligently that which they recognize--perhaps only implicitly and vaguely-- 183 to be fundamental or intrinsic value. The assumption here is, of course, that the linking of value in its basic conception to human need-satisfaction does not involve one in relativism, but instead involves one in an objective approach to value, where 'objectivity1 refers essentially to the regularity and predictability of values. Whether or not the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value is implicitly recognized by all people, the position that would be maintained at this point is that the principle is what a person, if he is truly reasonable, will recognize as being at the basis of all morality. In other words, the contention is that the fundamental principle of morality is that the goal of man ought to be to maximize value, the ought being the ought of reasonableness. The assumption of the principle with reference to value is that the concept of value not only has a specifiable content which all people ought to recognize, but that this content is of such a nature that values are objective, at least in the sense that they are regular and predictable. Obviously this assumption concerning value could only be supported by a full scale inquiry into the nature of value. Now it should be noted that two approaches could be taken with regard to the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value. In the first place, one could endeavor to give the principle an aura of certainty and unquestioned truth. One could say that a person intuits, as a synthetic a priori truth, that the maximizing of value is the only reasonable course to pursue. If this is an intuition, it seems as certain as any other synthetic ethical intuition that might be suggested. In the second place, one could simply say, as was said about the prin ciple that a person ought to adopt a course that appears to be the course which will bring one to his goals, that the principle that a person reasonably ought to seek to maximize value expresses an assumption. Again, it is not an arbitrary assumption, but rests on what seems to be a cognitive insight. If someone wished to dispute the assumption, he would be asked: Does it not seem clear that the maximizing of value is the only reasonable course for man? If the answer were negative, then the reasons for a negative answer would have to be considered, objections weighed, and various alternative assumptions investigated. Actually the distinction between the first and the second approach is not very great. The basic differ ence is that in the second approach one refrains from call ing the rational insight a synthetic a priori intuition. This reserved approach appears to be less dogmatic, and more open to reason and argument. It will be the approach 185 taken here. The fundamental assumption, then, is that man reasonably-ought to seek to maximize value. This assumption will be referred to subsequently as Assumption 1 1 • Prom Assumption II it follows that in a specific situation a person reasonably-ought to seek to maximize value. Just as the general question "What ought I to do?" would be answered by saying, "You ought to seek to maximize value," so the specific question "What ought I to do in this particular situation?" would be answered by saying, "You ought to seek to maximize value in the situation." This latter statement means, in effect, that one ought to perform that specific action which appears to be the action that will maximize value in the parti cular situation. And the ought in all these cases is the ought of reasonableness. If the only reasonable course to pursue is the maximizing of value, then the only reasonable course in a particular situation will be to perform that action which will most likely maximize value. It should be noted at this point that even if a person rejected Assumption II, he would not need to reject Assumption I, and, therefore, he would not need to reject the interpretation of the moral ought in terms of the ought of reasonableness. Whether or not an individual aims at maximizing value, it could very well be maintained that he normally acts, and rightly so, with the aim of attaining certain specific values. If this is the case, then the ought of obligation is still the ought of rea sonableness. In order to reach certain values to which one is committed, he reasonably-ought to do A, for A is the only action that will bring him to his value goals. This view of obligation, namely, that the moral ought reduces ultimately to the ought of reasonableness, stands in direct contrast to the emotivist approach to ethics. Stevenson, representing the emotivist approach, asserts that an ought statement, such as, "He ought to do this," can be divided into two components. The first component is the statement, "I disapprove of his leaving this undone." This is essentially an empirical statement, but it also expresses the speaker's attitudes and emotions. The second component is the imperative statement, "Do so O as well." This second component is what receives the emphasis and attention of Stevenson. Now it should be noted that although Stevenson uses an imperative to express what is involved in the second component of an ought statement, he goes on to maintain that the impera tive does not exactly express what is involved, for an imperative has too much of the idea of a unilateral 2 Charles L. Stevenson, Ethics and Language (New Haven, 19^7), pp. 21, 22. 187 command that does not seek at mutual understanding (p. 32). Stevenson holds that the second component can be best described by reference to emotive meaning. In emotive meaning one expresses his attitude and appeals for a similar attitude in others (p. 33)* Stevenson’s position is akin to Ayer’s, although Ayer stresses simply the expressive elements of an ought statement as opposed to the redirecting elements. He states: We shall set ourselves to show that in so far as statements of value are significant, they are ordinary ’scientific' statements; and that in so far as they are not scientific, they are not: in the literal sense significant, but are simply expressions of emotion which can be neither true nor false.3 He goes on to remark that if I say to someone, 'You acted wrongly in stealing that money,' . . . it is as if I had said, 'You stole that money,' in a peculiar tone of horror, or written it with the addition of some exclamation marks. (p. 107) Whether ethical statements are considered to be essentially empirical-expressive or empirical-imperative, the evidence is clear, even from primitive cultures, that although expressive-imperative elements are present in ethical statements and sometimes predominate, neither of them is crucial to the essential meaning of ethical 3 Alfred Jules Ayer, Language, Truth and Logic (London, i960), p. 103. statements. In order to see this, particularly among primitive people, one must first recall the objective of moral obligation among primitives. It has been shown that moral obligation among primitives has as its objec tive the attaining of certain values. Thus, when a primitive person states an obligation, he is not merely expressing an attitude or emotion, or merely giving the command, "Approve this--just as I do'." If he is commanding he is saying, "Do this, because it is a means toward the values which we accept in our culture." At least this is the meaning which, according to our analysis of moral obligation among primitives, must be finally placed upon primitive man’s statements of obligation. Moral obliga tion among primitives is directed toward the attaining of certain cultural values. To be sure, all primitives probably could not or would not explicitly state that the reason why a person ought to do something is because the action is a means toward accepted cultural values, al though many primitives do state as much. The Important point for the present, however, is that the analysis of moral obligation among primitives reveals that the meaning of moral obligation for primitives must ultimately reduce to a statement similar to the following: "Do this, because it is a means toward the values which we accept in our culture." But this is just another way of saying, 189 "You ought to do thi3, because it is the only action to perforin if you are to attain the values we all accept." In short, the ought is not purely emotive, but is the ought of reasonableness. Further, the whole statement can be said to be true or false if the premise is granted that it is reasonable to adopt only that action which appears to be the action that will bring one to his value ends. If the emotivist should maintain that the word 'reasonable* is basically an emotive word, the con tention would still be that the analysis of ethical statements proceeds much further and is a great deal more enlightening if the moral ought is defined in terms of reasonableness, rather than merely in terms of empirical, expressive, and/or imperative factors. It should be noted that the primitive view of obligation also cannot be adequately analyzed in terms of the approach, which, holds that obligation rests on approval. The question that must be asked with regard to approval is: Why is a particular action approved or disapproved? Is not a particular action approved essentially because it is seen to be a means to certain ends? If this is so, then it would remain as a means to the ends even if one disapproved it. And as long as the ends were held as ends, one could say that the action reasonably-ought to be done--regardless of a person's attitude toward the 190 a c t i o n . I n d e e d , o n e c o u l d s a y f u r t h e r t h a t t h e a c t i o n r e a s o n a b l y - o u g h t t o b e d o n e e v e n i f t h e v a l u e e n d s a r e h e l d t o b e e m o t i v e i n n a t u r e . H o w e v e r , t h e p o i n t a t p r e s e n t i s t h a t i f a p p r o v a l i s d i r e c t e d t o w a r d s a n a c t i o n b a s i c a l l y b e c a u s e i t i s a m e a n s t o a n e n d , t h e n a p p r o v a l i s n o t c o n s t i t u t i v e o f o b l i g a t i o n , b u t i s o n l y t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f a p e r s o n ' s a t t i t u d e i n a m e a n s - e n d s i t u a t i o n . N o w , t h e e v i d e n c e f r o m p r i m i t i v e c u l t u r e s i s s i g n i f i c a n t w i t h r e g a r d t o t h e n a t u r e a n d m e a n i n g o f o b l i g a t i o n , f o r i t i s n o t e x c e p t i o n a l e v i d e n c e . R a t h e r , i t s i m p l y p o i n t s u p t h e f a c t t h a t m a n g e n e r a l l y d e t e r m i n e s o b l i g a t i o n i n t e r m s o f c e r t a i n v a l u e g o a l s . T h e q u e s t i o n i s : W h y s h o u l d t h i s a p p r o a c h t o o b l i g a t i o n , w h i c h i n v o l v e s t h e o u g h t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s , b e a b a n d o n e d f o r a n e m o t i v i s t a p p r o a c h , o r a n a p p r o a c h b y w a y o f a p p r o v a l ? I t w o u l d s e e m t h a t i n s t e a d o f b e i n g a b a n d o n e d i t s h o u l d b e e x p a n d e d a n d s t r e n g t h e n e d . T o b e g i n w i t h , m a n s h o u l d b e e n c o u r a g e d t o a n a l y z e s y s t e m a t i c a l l y a n d r i g o r o u s l y h i s v a r i o u s o b l i g a t i o n s t o s e e i f t h e y a r e r e a l l y m e a n s t o t h e e n d s h e h a s f o r m u l a t e d . I f t h e y a r e n o t , t h e n t h e y s h o u l d b e a b a n d o n e d , a n d n e w , m o r e u t i l i t a r i a n , o b l i g a t i o n s f o r m u l a t e d . T h i s w o u l d b e t h e o n l y r e a s o n a b l e c o u r s e t o t a k e . I n a d d i t i o n , m a n s h o u l d b e c o n t i n u a l l y c h a l l e n g e d w i t h t h e a s s u m p t i o n t h a t t h e o n l y r e a s o n a b l e c o u r s e i s t o s e e k t o m a x i m i z e v a l u e . I n d e e d , a s w a s a s s e r t e d a b o v e , 191 this is probably already the goal, at least implicitly, of the majority of mankind. Therefore, the procedure should be to encourage a more systematic and rational pursuit of this goal. And for those who do not accept the goal, they should be constantly encouraged to examine it. However, many moral philosophers are quite insist ent that the ought of reasonableness does not capture the essence of the ought of moral obligation. Ross, for example, makes a clear-cut distinction between utili tarian suitability (the suitability of reasonableness) and moral suitability. He says: I am inclined to think that all that is common to these two suitabilities is that both are relations to which we feel a favourable reaction. . . . But we err if we therefore think there is an element of identity between utilitarian suitability and moral suitability.^ This statement is basically just another way of saying what Ross had said earlier, namely, that the logical sense of 'ought* (the ought of reasonableness) is an improper sense. Thus the logical application of 'ought* . . . is an improper application of it, and we are left with but one proper application, as we are left with but one proper sense; viz. the application to acts within the agent's power to do if he chooses, and imposed on him by the moral law.5 4 . Sir ¥. David Ross, Foundations of Ethics (Oxford, 1939), P. 53. 5Ibid., p. 47. 192 T h e q u e s t i o n a r i s e s , t h o u g h , a s t o w h a t R o s s m e a n s b y t h e p h r a s e , ' i m p o s e d b y t h e m o r a l l a w . 1 D o e s h e m e r e l y w a n t t o s a y t h a t m o r a l o b l i g a t i o n u n a m b i g u o u s l y i m p o s e s c e r t a i n s p e c i f i c a c t s o n a p e r s o n i n c e r t a i n s p e c i f i c c i r c u m s t a n c e s ? I f t h i s i s a l l h e w a n t s t o m a i n t a i n , t h e n h e d o e s n o t n e e d t o e m p l o y a n y t h i n g b e y o n d t h e o u g h t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s . T h e a s s u m p t i o n a t t h i s p o i n t i s t h a t v a l u e s a r e o b j e c t i v e , a t l e a s t i n t h e s e n s e t h a t t h e y a r e r e g u l a r a n d p r e d i c t a b l e . T h e r e f o r e , n o t j u s t a n y a c t i o n w i l l m a x i m i z e v a l u e s , t h e c o n s e q u e n c e b e i n g t h a t i n a p a r t i c u l a r s i t u a t i o n o n e c a n m a k e u n a m b i g u o u s m o r a l s t a t e m e n t s a s t o w h a t a c t i o n r e a s o n a b l y - o u g h t t o b e p e r f o r m e d i n o r d e r t o m a x i m i z e v a l u e . H o w e v e r , b y t h e p h r a s e ' i m p o s e d b y t h e m o r a l l a w ' R o s s i s a p p a r e n t l y a d v o c a t i n g a p e c u l i a r l y m o r a l e l e m e n t i n m o r a l o b l i g a t i o n . B u t w h a t i s t h i s p e c u l i a r l y m o r a l e l e m e n t ? I s i t a n e s p e c i a l l y b i n d i n g f o r c e t h a t m o r a l o b l i g a t i o n s h a v e ? C o u l d n o t o n e m a i n t a i n t h a t t h e r e q u i r e m e n t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s i s a n e x c e e d i n g l y b i n d i n g a n d f o r c e f u l r e q u i r e m e n t ? I f i t i s s u g g e s t e d t h a t r e a s o n c a n b e f o r s a k e n , t h e n t h e r e p l y c a n b e m a d e t h a t t h e s o - c a l l e d p e c u l i a r l y m o r a l e l e m e n t c a n l i k e w i s e b e f o r s a k e n . I n s t e a d o f l o o k i n g f o r s o m e n e w k i n d o f m o r a l e l e m e n t i n m o r a l o b l i g a t i o n , w o u l d i t n o t b e m u c h b e t t e r t o e n d e a v o r t o i n c r e a s e m a n ' s d e v o t i o n t o r e a s o n ? B e s i d e s , t h e q u e s t i o n 193 again arises: What is the peculiarly moral element of which Ross speaks? He can certainly state that it is an indefinable, non-natural relation, and this statement can hardly be conclusively attacked. Nevertheless, one can persist in hi3 position that he perceives no such relation, but perceives only the relation of reasonable ness. One can then go on to speculate as to how certain ought statements have come to be set aside as specifically moral. This kind of speculation is especially inconclu sive. Yet, it is a form of explanation that is necessary if one is to provide a full, systematic account of moral obligation in terms of the ought of reasonableness. However, it should be noted first that the diffi culty of making a clear-cut distinction between specifi cally moral and non-moral statements should have at least suggested the viewpoint that the gap between the moral and non-moral ought is one of degree rather than of kind. For example, which of the following statements involves the specifically moral ought? "You ought to read rather than look at television." "You ought to be more sociable." "You ought to take better care of your car." "You ought to drink milk rather than coffee." "You ought to wear shoes in this cold weather." "You ought to kiss your wife before you leave home." "You ought to feed your cat." How does one precisely determine when the moral ought is involved as opposed to the non-moral ought? O n e s u g g e s t i o n a s t o h o w t h e d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n m o r a l a n d n o n - m o r a l h a s a r i s e n i s t h a t t h e w o r d ' m o r a l ' h a s c o m e t o b e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h m a t t e r s r e l a t i n g t o p e r s o n s a n d t h e i r w e l f a r e . O f c o u r s e , t h i s d i s t i n c t i o n c a n n o t b e m a i n t a i n e d i n e v e r y c a s e , f o r i f a p e r s o n w e r e c r u e l t o a n i m a l s , o n e w o u l d p r o b a b l y s a y t h a t h e m o r a l l y o u g h t n o t t o m i s t r e a t a n i m a l s . P e r h a p s o n e s h o u l d s a y i n s t e a d t h a t a s v a l u e s i n c r e a s e i n i m p o r t a n c e - - a n d u s u a l l y v a l u e s r e l a t i n g t o t h e w e l f a r e o f p e r s o n s a r e c o n s i d e r e d t o b e m o r e i m p o r t a n t - - a c t i o n s r e l a t i v e t o t h e v a l u e s c o m e t o b e c l a s s e d a s m o r a l . A n o t h e r s u g g e s t i o n a s t o h o w t h e d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n m o r a l a n d n o n - m o r a l h a s a r i s e n h a s t o d o w i t h p s y c h o l o g i c a l a n d t h e o l o g i c a l f a c t o r s . A s f o r p s y c h o l o g i c a l f a c t o r s , o n e i m m e d i a t e l y t h i n k s o f t h e s u p e r e g o . T h e t e r m ' s u p e r e g o ' r e f e r s , n o t t o s o m e m e n t a l e n t i t y o r s t r u c t u r e , b u t s i m p l y t o p a r e n t a l d e m a n d s a n d c o m m a n d s t h a t h a v e b e e n i n t r o j e c t e d i n e a r l y c h i l d h o o d . T h e i n t r o j e c t i o n t h e o r e t i c a l l y t a k e s p l a c e a t a p e r i o d i n t h e l i f e o f a c h i l d w h e n c o g n i t i v e p r o c e s s e s a r e m i n i m a l a n d p a r e n t - c h i l d r e l a t i o n s h i p s a r e h i g h l y c h a r g e d e m o t i o n a l l y . T h e c o n s e q u e n c e i s t h a t t h e s u p e r e g o i s c h a r a c t e r i z e d a s b e i n g h i g h l y a u t h o r i t a t i v e , u n b e n d i n g , a n d i n f l e x i b l e . One could, therefore, easily hold that the specifically 195 m o r a l n a t u r e o f * c e r t a i n o b l i g a t i o n s h a s t o d o w i t h s u p e r e g o I n f l u e n c e s . A p e r s o n h a s a d i f f e r e n t f e e l i n g a b o u t s o m e o b l i g a t i o n s . T h e y h a v e a d i f f e r e n t c o n n o t a t i o n . T h e y a r e m o r e i m p o r t a n t . , m o r e u n b e n d i n g , m o r e s t r i n g e n t . I t i s n o t a t a l l d i f f i c u l t t o s u p p o s e t h a t t h e s e c o n n o t a t i o n s , s u p p l i e d b y t h e s u p e r e g o , c o m e t o b e m i s t a k e n f o r a n i n d e f i n a b l e , c o g n i t i v e r e l a t i o n . A s f o r t h e o l o g i c a l f a c t o r s , i t i s a f a m i l i a r f a c t t h a t t h e J e w i s h - C h r i s t i a n r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n h a s s t r o n g l y e m p h a s i z e d t h e s o v e r e i g n l o r d s h i p o f t h e L o r d G o d . H e i s C r e a t o r , a n d m a n i s c r e a t u r e . H e c o m m a n d s , a n d m a n m u s t o b e y . H i s c o m m a n d s a r e u n b e n d i n g a n d s u p r e m e l y a u t h o r i t a t i v e . I n d e e d , t h e c o m m a n d s o f G o d a r e s i m i l a r i n m a n y r e s p e c t s t o t h e d e m a n d s o f t h e s u p e r e g o - - t w o a p p a r e n t l y d i s t a n t m a t t e r s , w h i c h , n e v e r t h e l e s s , a r e p r o b a b l y c l o s e l y r e l a t e d . I n a n y c a s e , t h e c o n c e p t o f t h e c o m m a n d s o f G o d i n t r o d u c e s a n e w e l e m e n t i n t h e m o r a l s i t u a t i o n . A n o b l i g a t i o n i s n o t m e r e l y a r e a s o n a b l e a c t , i t i s a c o m m a n d o f t h e s o v e r e i g n G o d t o H i s c r e a t u r e s . T h i s b r i n g s a n e w c o g n i t i v e m e a n i n g t o t h e n o t i o n o f o b l i g a t i o n , a s w e l l a s v a r i o u s e m o t i v e e l e m e n t s s i m i l a r t o t h e e l e m e n t s s u r r o u n d i n g t h e s u p e r e g o d e m a n d s . T h e c o g n i t i v e m e a n i n g o f a c o m m a n d o f t h e s o v e r e i g n G o d p r o v i d e s a n e s p e c i a l l y s u i t a b l e b a c k g r o u n d o u t o f w h i c h t h e s p e c i f i c a l l y m o r a l n o t i o n o f o b l i g a t i o n m a y h a v e d e v e l o p e d . 196 The way that moral writers have spoken about imperatives and the moral law does not indicate a merely chance relationship with theological notions. This is all basically suggestion and speculation. The pertinent question is still: What element can be produced to account for the specifically moral nature of certain obligations? If the appeal is to the intuition of a non-natural relation, one is left completely in the dark if he has been unable to attain this intuition. Another suggestion, however, is made by Werkmeister. He maintains that moral obligation is constituted by a promise. "In my terminology, therefore, a promise freely given--and given with a full understanding of what is involved--entails an obligation which I call moral. He goes on to emphasize that promises are value motivated. Nevertheless, obligation is not constituted by the value considerations, but by the promise. We must be clear on one point, however: making the promise is value-motivated, but the obligation I am under to keep my promise (and the right you have to expect that I will do so) derives from the nature of the promise as promise, not from the value consideration which induced me to make it. (p. ^60) Now considering the fact that Werkmeister equates g W. H. Werkmeister, "Value Theory and the Problem of Moral Obligation," The Personalist, XLV, No. 3 (1964), p. 355. 197 a p r o m i s e w i t h a c o m m i t m e n t ( p . 3 5 5 ), i t w o u l d b e m a i n t a i n e d t h a t t h e p o s i t i o n o f t h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n i s v e r y c l o s e t o t h a t o f W e r k m e i s t e r . I t h a s b e e n e m p h a s i z e d t h a t . , a t l e a s t i n t h e c a s e o f p r i m i t i v e p e o p l e , o b l i g a t i o n i s d i r e c t e d t o w a r d t h e a t t a i n i n g o f c e r t a i n v a l u e d c u l t u r a l e n d s . W h a t t h i s m e a n s , i n e f f e c t , i s t h a t p r i m i t i v e p e o p l e a r e c o m m i t t e d t o a n u m b e r o f v a l u e s , a n d o b l i g a t i o n a r i s e s o u t o f t h e c o m m i t m e n t t o t h e s e v a l u e s . I f t h e c o m m i t m e n t w e r e l a c k i n g , t h e o b l i g a t i o n w o u l d b e l a c k i n g . H o w e v e r , i t w o u l d b e u r g e d t h a t t h e o b l i g a t i o n i n v o l v e d i s n o t h i n g b e y o n d t h e o b l i g a t i o n o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s . T h e b a s i c a s s u m p t i o n b e h i n d t h e s t a t e m e n t t h a t o n e o u g h t t o c a r r y o u t h i s c o m m i t m e n t s i s A s s u m p t i o n I , n a m e l y , t h a t r e a s o n a b l e a c t i o n i s a c t i o n w h i c h s e e k s t o b r i n g o n e t o t h e g o a l s t o w h i c h h e i s c o m m i t t e d . T h u s , o n e c o u l d s a y t h a t m e a n s M o u g h t t o b e a d o p t e d w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o g o a l G , i n a s m u c h a s p e r s o n P i s c o m m i t t e d t o G , a n d M i s t h e o n l y m e a n s o f r e a c h i n g G . T h e o u g h t h e r e i s t h e o u g h t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s . I t i s a n o u g h t , m o r e o v e r , t h a t w o u l d b e a p p l i e d t o t h e p r i m i t i v e m a n c o m m i t t e d t o t h e g o a l o f k i l l i n g s t r a n g e r s . O n e c o u l d s a y t h a t t h e p r i m i t i v e m a n r e a s o n a b l y - o u g h t t o u s e a p o i s o n e d a r r o w o n t h e s t r a n g e r , r a t h e r t h a n a d i r t c l o d . I f h e u s e d a d i r t c l o d , w e w o u l d s a y t h a t h e w a s u n r e a s o n a b l e , s t u p i d , o r f o o l i s h . T h i s e x a m p l e r e v e a l s t h a t a b a s i c d i s t i n c t i o n m u s t b e m a d e i n t e r m s o f t h e c o n c e p t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s . I t i s t h e d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f m e a n s - e n d s , a n d t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f e n d s . T h e f o r m e r r e a s o n a b l e n e s s h a s t o d o w i t h A s s u m p t i o n I , n a m e l y , t h a t r e a s o n a b l e a c t i o n i s a c t i o n w h i c h s e e k s t o b r i n g o n e t o h i s g o a l s . T h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f m e a n s - e n d s d o e s n o t g i v e a t t e n t i o n t o t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f t h e g o a l s t h a t h a v e b e e n a d o p t e d . I t o n l y s a y s t h a t i f a p e r s o n h a s a g o a l , h e r e a s o n a b l y - o u g h t t o a d o p t t h e m e a n s t h a t w i l l m o s t l i k e l y b r i n g h i m t o h i s g o a l . T h e o t h e r r e a s o n a b l e n e s s , t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f e n d s , c e n t e r s a t t e n t i o n o n t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f t h e e n d s . W e w o u l d w a n t t o s a y t h a t , r e g a r d l e s s o f a p e r s o n ’ s c o m m i t m e n t , h e o u g h t o r h e o u g h t n o t t o h a v e c e r t a i n e n d s . F o r e x a m p l e , t h e p r i m i t i v e m a n o u g h t n o t t o h a v e t h e g o a l o f k i l l i n g s t r a n g e r s . T h e o u g h t h e r e i s , o f c o u r s e , t h e o u g h t o f r e a s o n a b l e n e s s , b u t i t i s t h e o u g h t o f t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f e n d s . T h a t i s , w e w o u l d n o t q u a r r e l w i t h t h e p r i m i t i v e m a n o v e r h i s u s e o f a p o i s o n e d a r r o w t o k i l l a s t r a n g e r . T h e a d o p t i o n o f t h i s m e a n s w o u l d b e p e r f e c t l y r e a s o n a b l e i n v i e w o f t h e g o a l o f t h e p r i m i t i v e m a n . O u r q u a r r e l , t h e r e f o r e , w o u l d b e w i t h t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f t h e g o a l , n a m e l y , t h e g o a l o f k i l l i n g s t r a n g e r s . T h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f t h e g o a l h a s t o d o w i t h , t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f e n d s . A n d t h e r e a s o n a b l e n e s s o f e n d s i s b a s e d f u n d a m e n t a l l y o n A s s u m p t i o n I I , n a m e l y t h e 199 assumption that it is only reasonable to seek to maximize value. If a person's goal is anything less than the maximizing of value, although he may be very reasonable in terms of the means adopted to bring him to his goal, he is not reasonable in terms of his goal. Further, it would be maintained that the reasonableness of ends takes precedence over the reasonableness of means-ends, so that one could say absolutely that if killing a stranger will not maximize value, the primitive man ought not to kill the stranger. It should be noted that if one is committed to maximizing value, then the reasonableness of means-ends will necessarily involve the adoption of means that will most likely maximize value. However, the reasonableness of means-ends is inadequate as an ultimate basis of obligation. Only the reasonableness of ends makes it possible to say to the individual with inadequate goals that he ought to have the goal of maximizing value. Moreover, only the reasonableness of ends makes it possible to provide rational grounds for one's commitment to maxi mizing value. To be sure, the concept of rational grounds rests on the assumption of what rationality or reason ableness is considered to be. Consequently, one might object that the entire argument is an argument proceeding by definition alone, namely, the definition of reasonable 200 ness. Yet, the point would again be made that the assump tion or definition relating to reasonableness, in parti cular the reasonableness of ends, is not arbitrary, but seems to rest on the cognitive insight that the reasonable goal for man is to maximize value. Ultimately one can only specify step by step what he means by 'reasonable,' or what he considers to be a cognitive insight as opposed to what is non-cognitive. If disagreement exists on these ultimates, then discussion must center on the precise nature of the ultimates, and the implications that are to be drawn from them. In the final analysis, discussion may have to come to an end. Inasmuch as the position of this dissertation is essentially utilitarian, it would probably be profitable, before concluding this chapter, to consider briefly several broad objections that can be brought against utilitarianism in general. Three objections call for particular, comment. They are the objections having to do with special obligations, the apparently non-utilitarian approach to many obligations, and the punishment of the innocent. One of the basic objections to utilitarianism is that it cannot adequately account for special obligations, such as the obligations to parents, loved ones, and friends. To begin with, it should be remembered that emotional attachments have much to do with the sense of obligation we feel to kin and loved ones. Yet, disregard ing emotional attachments, we would still undoubtedly say that a person does have a special obligation with respect to kin and loved ones. A person is more obligated to care for his parents in old age than to care for some other elderly person he has never met, even though this other person may be more needy. But does this mean that the special obligation to parents cannot be founded solely on considerations of maximizing value? Do not strong bonds of love and loyalty, bonds which can only be devel oped in close relationships with a select number of per sons, provide great potential for creating strong persons of love, commitment, sensitivity, and productivity, as well as strong societies with concern for others? It would be maintained that special relationships with kin and loved ones have far greater potential in terms of short and long term value realization than does the lack of such relationships. What this means is not that one ought to neglect others, but that sometimes the care for close kin will mean the neglect of others with greater needs. In sum, it is by no means certain or even probable that special obligations to kin and loved ones cannot be founded wholly on considerations of the utility of these obliga tions to individuals and society. 202 Another objection to utilitarianism is that some times we keep an obligation even if we see that value will not be maximized. Thus, we may keep a promise, even though in a particular situation it may not be the means toward maximizing value. However, it should be kept in mind that we also break our promises in numerous instances if we do not believe that value will be maximized, and we do not feel guilty for doing so. For example, if I should promise to come to your house for dinner, but find myself coming down with, a cold, I would, without compunction, not carry out my promise. The reason would be that I would judge that greater value would be realized by staying at home and endeavoring to cure my cold, than by going to your house and neglecting my cold. If it should be said that I would owe you an apology, and that this is evidence for a position that the obligatory nature of promises rests on other grounds than their utility, the reply would simply be that the owing of an apology is evidence for no such position. In fact, instead of saying that I owe you an apology, it would be better to say merely that I owe you an explanation, for my apology is essen tially an effort to let you understand my reasons for breaking my promise. I do not want you to think that I am staying at home for some trivial reason such as looking at television. I truly believe that promises ought to be kept because of their utility; consequently, I am justified in breaking a promise only when it ceases to be a means of realizing greater value. I want you to understand that I have not altered my commitment to promises. Therefore, I call you with an explanation. Moreover, if I should say that I am sorry about having to break my promise, what I mean is simply that I truly regret that we could not have an evening together. Spending an evening together would have been a means of value realization for both of us, and I regret that this value realization must be missed. However, if you should not accept my regrets or my explanation, but should insist on my presence at your house, I would still not come, and would feel no guilt at all, but would instead consider you to be most unreasonable. In short, an apology or the expression of regrets is certainly not evidence for a position which holds that the obligation to keep promises rests on other than utilitarian grounds. But what about the case when we carry out a pro mise in a situation where little immediate value is realized? In this case we simply place our emphasis on the long term consequences of promise keeping. In the particular situation a promise may not maximize value, but we keep the promise, because generally we hold to the utility of promises; and we see that sometimes to break 204 a promise, even under the circumstances of not maximizing value, may have a total effect of disvalue in terms of the consequences that our promise-breaking may have on others. Here again, the maximizing of value is the central consideration. A further objection to utilitarianism is that it would permit the punishment of the innocent. To begin with, the word 'punishment1 is not especially appropriate. ’Sanctions’ would be a better term. Therefore, the ques tion is whether sanctions should ever be applied to the innocent. The answer is that generally such a procedure would be highly non-utilitarian. Moreover, if an exception were made in an instance where it could be demonstrated that greater value would result, even here the possible long term consequences must be taken into account. The consideration of how applying sanctions to the innocent might be used by tyrants, demagogues, or other unscrupu lous persons would certainly bring second thoughts about applying sanctions to an innocent person. Yet, one could think of hypothetical cases where it might be said, "Yes, apply sanctions to the innocent." If it could be clearly demonstrated that applying capital punishment to one innocent person would deter crime in an entire society, and would not have any serious future repercussions, then the utilitarian— and possibly even the intuitionist-- 205 would grant that In this case the innocent person should die. , v In sum, the utilitarian position is certainly not free from objections. However, one must realize that every position is faced with objections. The point at present is that the objections against utilitarianism do not appear to be so cogent and so decisive that they require the abandonment of a position which stems from premises that seem to rest on basic cognitive insights. CHAPTER VII SUMMARY AND CONCLUDING REMARKS This dissertation began with the question: What is the basis of moral obligation? The objective was to dis cuss this question essentially in terms of the material of cultural anthropology. The procedure was to choose a spe cific moral principle, namely, the obligation not to kill, and to see what the cultural material on homicide, warfare, and the treatment of the conquered revealed, not merely about the specific obligation not to kill, but about the more general question of the basis of moral obligation. The cultural material covered many different cul tures from various parts of the world. The reason for look ing at a wide variety of cultures rather than studying just two or three cultures in depth was that a broad sampling would provide a better base for any general observations that might be made. Two fundamental observations emerged 206 207 from the data. The first was that the obligation not to kill is limited in many cultures to the in-group. The sec ond was that among primitive peoples immediate, concrete values, particularly the value of in-group preservation and maintenance, are largely, if not wholly, determinative of the obligation not to kill. These two observations were shown to hold, not merely for the obligation not to kill, but for obligations in general. It was granted that the fact that primitive people determine obligation in terms of immediate, concrete values does not prove that obligation should be determined wholly in terms of the value consequences of action. However, the cultural material did raise a number of questions about some alternative positions. In the first place, the in group limitation of the obligation not to kill was seen to be a major obstacle to the position which maintains that obligation is based on the intuition of prima facie duties. And secondly, the fact that value consequences are crucial considerations in determining obligations for primitive people was seen to be a major obstacle to the positions which hold that obligation is constituted by the reaction of approval, or is merely expressive of emotions, attitudes, 208 or commands. The fact that primitive people determine obligation in terms of certain values shows that, at least for them, obligation has to do with the ought of reason ableness. That is, when it is said that a person ought to do a specific act, what this ultimately must mean is that in view of the value goals of the individual and his cul ture, act A is the only reasonable act to pursue. The ought of reasonableness, in the sense just mentioned, was seen to rest on the principle that reasonable action is that action which seeks to bring one to his goals. This principle was referred to as Assumption I. The further suggestion was made that primitive peo ple do not merely determine obligation with a view to realizing only certain limited values, but they seem to endeavor to realize the maximum value. In other words, the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value ap peared to be implicit in the primitive approach to moral obligation. But this principle also was held to be impli cit in the civilized approach to moral obligation. More over, the assertion was made that the principle was not merely an empty, formal principle, but rather was a prin ciple having definite content, in which the notion of value, 209 in its fundamental conception, was linked with human need- satisfaction. The basic point, however, was that whether or not the principle that one ought to seek to maximize value is implicit universally, it is the principle which a person, if he is truly reasonable, will recognize as being at the basis of moral obligation. The principle that one ought to seek to maximize value was referred to as Assumption II. The contention was that the ought involved in the principle is the ought of reasonableness. In addition, with refer ence to value, the assumption was made that value not only has a specifiable content which all people ought to recog nize, but that this content is of such a nature that values are objective, at least in the sense that they are regular and predictable. It was noted that Assumption I and Assumption II in volved two different forms of reasonableness. Associated with Assumption I was the reasonablenss of means-ends, and associated with Assumption II was the reasonableness of ends. The latter form of reasonableness was held to be the more fundamental and overriding concept of reasonableness. The conclusion with respect to the moral ought was 210 that insofar as it has a clearly specifiable, non- theological meaning, it reduces to the ought of reasonable ness, ultimately the ought of the reasonableness of ends. The presence of a specifically and peculiarly moral factor in moral obligation was held to be without substantial support. The concept of something specifically moral was considered to rest upon an evaluation of the importance of the values one is seeking, on the influence of the super ego, or on theological beliefs. In terms of the cultural data, a few final remarks might be made. It would be suggested that researchers approach their investigations with more explicit questions relevant to ethical matters. If all investigators had approached the ethical systems of their cultures with the same thoroughness and explicitness that Murphy approached the ethical system of the MunduructS, the cultural material would not require as much inference as it now does. A few questions that should be kept in mind when investigating the ethical systems of cultures are: What is the precise relationship between sanctions and the sense of wrongness? What is the exact aim of revenge as practiced in a culture? What, precisely, does a culture think about outsiders? Are 211 they clearly seen as enemies, as inferior persons, or what? Why are they killed with so little compunction? Why is an act considered to be obligatory? What principles of morality seem implicit in the approach of the culture to moral obligation? If these and other questions were kept in mind by researchers, material relevant to ethical matters would offer a more secure base for drawing conclu sions of significance. Of course, one of the basic prob lems in the field of cultural anthropology is that the spread of civilization reduces the availability of prim itive cultures. As a consequence, the questions mentioned above can no longer be asked of many of the cultures re ferred to in this dissertation. 212 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 213 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY (See note under the listing of Cobo, Bernab^, for an explanation of references to the Human Relations Area Files.) Ayer, Alfred Jules. Language, Truth, and Logic. London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1960. Barnes, J. A. Politics in a Changing Society. A Political History of the Fort Jameson Ngoni. London: Oxford University Press, 1954. Barton, Roy Franklin. The Half-Way Sun: Life among the Headhunters of the Philippines. New York: Brewer and Warren, Inc., 1930. _______. Ifugao Law. University of California Publica tions in American Archaeology and Ethnology, XV, No. 1. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1919. Best, Elsdon. The Maori. Vol. I. Wellington: Published by the Board of Maori Ethnological Research for the author and on behalf of the Polynesian Society,1924. Blackwood, Beatrice. Both Sides of Buka Passage: An Ethnographic Study of Social, Sexual, and Economic Questions in the North-Western Solomon Islands. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1935. Boaz, Franz. Anthropology and Modern Life. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1928. The Mind of Primitive Man. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1938. 214 BoUnder, Gustaf. Indians on Horseback. London: Dennis Dobson, 1957. Buck, Peter. The Coming of the Maori. Wellington: Whitcombe and Tombs, Ltd., 1952. Butt, Audrey. The Nilotes of the Anglo“Egyptian Sudan and Uganda. In Ethnographic Survey of Africa: East Central Africa, Part IV. Edited by Daryll Forde. London: International African Institute, 1952. Cardim, Fernao. "A Treatise of Brasil and Articles Touch ing the Dutie of the King's Majestie Our Lord, and to the Common Good of All the Estate of Brasill," in Hakluytus Posthumus or Purchas His Pilgrimes, Vol. XVI. Edited by Samuel Purchas. Glasgow: James MacLehose and Sons, 1906, 417-517. Chewings, Charles. Back in the Stone Age: The Natives of Central Australia. Sydney: Angus & Robertson Ltd., 1936. Childs, Gladwyn Murray. Umbundu Kinship and Character. London: International African Institute and the Witwatersrand Press, 1949. Cobo, Bernab^. History of the New World. Vol. IV. Trans lated from the Spanish for the Human Relations Area Files (to be referred to subsequently as the HRAF) by Ariane Brunei. New Haven. The source cited above, as well as all subse quent sources cited in a similar manner, has been translated exclusively for the HRAF, and can be found only in the files. The files at the Univer sity of Southern California were consulted for this dissertation. Conzemius, Eduard. Ethnographical Survey of the Miskito and Sumu Indians of Honduras and Nicaragua. Smith sonian Institution, 1932. 215 Danielsson, Bengt. "Some Attraction and Repulsion Pat terns among Jibaro Indians: A Study in Sociometric Anthropology," Sociometry, XII (1949), 83-105. Dobrizhoffer, Martin. An Account of the Abipones, An Equestrian People of Paraguay. Vol. II. London: John Murray, 1822. Downes, R. M. The Tiv Tribe. Kaduna: The Government Printer, 1933. Dubois, J. A. Hindu Manners, Customs and Ceremonies. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1906. Dundas, Charles. "The Organization and Laws of Some Bantu Tribes in East Africa," The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, XLV (1915), 234-306. Durham, M. Edith. Some Tribal Origins, Laws and Customs of the Balkans. London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1928. Evans-Pritchard, Edward Evan. Kinship and Marriage among the Nuer. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1951. _______ . The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Liveli hood and Political Institutions of a Nilotic People. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1940. _______ . Nuer Religion. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956. _______ . "Witchcraft (Mangu) among the A-Zande," in Sudan Notes and Records, XII. Khartoum: McCor- quodale and Co., Ltd., 1929, 163-249. _______ . Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1937. "Zande Blood-Brotherhood," Africa, VI (1933), 369-401. 216 Fortes, Meyer. The Dynamics of Clanship among the Tal- lensi: The Second Part of an Analysis of the Social Structure of a Trans-Volta Tribe. London: Oxford University Press for the International African Institute, 1949. Garcilaso de la Vega, El Inca. First Part of the Royal Commentaries of the Yncas. Vol. II. Translated by Clements R. Markham. London: Printed for the Hakluyt Society, 1871. (Hakluyt Society Publica tions, Series 1, XLV.) Glubb, John Bagot. The Story of the Arab Legion. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1948. Gomes, Edwin H. Seventeen Years among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo: A Record of Intimate Association with the Natives of the Bornean Jungles. London: Seeley & Co., 1911. Gutierrez de Pineda, Virginia. Social Organization in La Guajira. Translated from the Spanish for the HRAF by Sydney Muirden. New Havan. Gutmann, Bruno. The Tribal Teachings of the Chagga. Translated from the German for the HRAF by Ward Goodenough and Dorothy Crawford. New Haven. Handy, E. S. Craighill. The Native Culture in the Mar quesas . Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Bulletin No. 9. Honolulu: 1923. Hart, C. W. M., and Pilling, Arnold. The Tiwi of North Australia. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1960. Hasluck, Margaret. The Unwritten Law in Albania. Cam bridge: At the University Press, 1954. Hoebel, E. Adamson. "The Political Organization and Law- Ways of the Comanche Indians," Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association, Number 54 (1940). 217 Howell, P. P. A Manual of Nuer Law. Being an Account of Customary Law, Its Evolution and Development in the Courts Established by the Sudan Government. London: Oxford University Press, 1954. _______ . "Observations on the Shilluk of the Upper Nile: The Laws of Homicide and the Legal Functions of the Reth," Africa. XXII (1952), 97-119. Hume, David. Enquiries concerning the Human Understanding and concerning the Principles of Morals. Edited by L. A. Selby-Bigge, 2d ed. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1902. _______. A Treatise of Human Nature. Edited by L. A. Selby-Bigge. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1896. Jenks, Albert Ernest. The Bontoc Igorot. Department of the Interior Ethnological Publications, I. Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1905. Johnson, Samuel. The History of the Yorubas from the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the British Pro tectorate . Edited by Dr. 0. Johnson. London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., 1921. Jones, Livingston F. A Study of the Thlingets of Alaska. New York: Fleming H. Revell Co., 1914. Kant, Immanuel. Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals. Translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott. In Great Books of the Western World, XL. Edited by Robert Maynard Hutchins. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britanni'ca, Inc ., 1952 . Karsten, Rafael. The Head-Hunters of Western Amazonas: The Life and Culture of the Jibaro Indians of Eastern Ecuador and Peru. Societus Scieniarum Fennica: Commentationes Humanarum Literarum, VII, No. 1. Helsingfors: Centraltryckeriet, 1935. Kennedy, Raymond. The Ageless Indies. New York: The John Day Company, 1942. 218 Kenyatta, Jomo. Facing Mount Kenya: The Tribal Life of the Gikuyu. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1953. Kluckhohn, Clyde. "Ethical Relativity: Sic et Non," Journal of Philosophy, LII (1955), 663-677. _______ . "Universal Categories of Culture," in Anthro pology Today. Edited by A. L. Kroeber. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1953, 507-524. . "Universal Values and Anthropological Relati vism," in Modern Education and Human Values. Vol. IV. Pitcairn-Crabbe Foundation Lecture Series. Pittsburg: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1953, 87-112. Kluckhohn, Florence Rockwood, and Strodtbeck, Fred L. Variations in Value Orientations. Evanston: Row, Peterson, 1961. Kramer, Augustin and Nevermann, Hans. Marshall Islands. Translated from the German for the HRAF by Charles Braut and John M. Armstrong. New Haven, 1942. Kroeber, Alfred Louis. People of the Philippines. Amer ican Museum of Natural History. Handbook Series, 8. 2d. ed. revised. New York: The American Museum of Natural History, 1943. Lambrecht, Francis. The Mayawyaw Ritual. Publications of the Catholic Anthropological Conference, IV, Nos. 1-5. Washington, D. C.: 1932, 1935, 1938, 1939, 1941. Latcham, Richard E. "Ethnology of the Araucanos," Jour nal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, XXXIX (1909), 334-370. L^ry, Jean de. History of a Voyage to Brazil. Translated from the French for the HRAF by Alfred M^traux. New Haven. 219 L^vy-Bruhl, Lucien. How Natives Think. Translated by Lilian A. Clare. New York: A. A. Knopf, 1925. Linton, Ralph. "Marquesan Culture," in The Individual and His Society: The Psychodynamics of Primitive Social Organization. Edited by Abram Kardiner. New York: Columbia University Press, 1939, 138-196. _______ . "Universal Ethical Principles: An Anthropo logical View," in Moral Principles of Action. Ed ited by Ruth Nanda Anshen. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1952, 645-660. Macbeath, A. Experiments in Living. London: Macmillan & Co . Ltd., 1952. Mackenzie, D. R. The Spirit-Ridden Konde. London: Seekyl Service & Co., Limited, 1925. Magalhaes de Gandavo, Pedro de. "Treatise on the Land of Brazil. Documents and Narratives concerning the Discovery and Conquest of Latin America," in The Histories of Brazil. Vol. II. New York: The Cortes Society, 1922, 125-232. Mair, Lucy P. An African People in the Twentieth Century. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1934. Malinowski, Bronislaw. Argonauts of the Western Pacific: An Account of Native Enterprise and Adventure in the Archipelagoes of Melanesian New Guinea. London: George Routledge and Sons, Ltd., 1922. _______ . "Baloma: The Spirits of the Dead in the Tro- briand Islands," The Journal of the Royal Anthro pological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, XLVI (1916), 353-430. "War and Weapons among the Natives of the Trobriand Islands," Man, XX, No. 5 (1920), 10-12. 220 Maquet, Jacques J. "The Kingdom of Ruanda," in African Worlds: Studies in the Cosmological Ideas and Social Values of African Peoples, Edited by Daryll Forde. London: Oxford University Press for the International African Institute, 1954, 164-189. _______. The Premise of Inequality in Ruanda: A Study of Political Relations in a Central African Kingdom. London: Oxford University Press for the Inter national African Institute, 1961. Marshall, Lorna. "The Kin Terminology System of the Kung Bushmen," Africa, XXVII (1957), 1-25. _______. "Kung Bushman Religious Beliefs," Africa, XXXII (1962), 221-252. Mead, Margaret. New Lives for Old: Cultural Transforma- tion--Manus^ 1928-1953. New York: William Morrow and Co., 1956. Meek, C. K. Tribal Studies in Northern Nigeria. Vol. II. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, 1931. M^traux, Alfred. "The Caingang," in Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin No. 143, I. Washington: Smithsonian Institute, 1946, 445-475. _______. Ethnology of Easter Island. Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Bulletin No. 160. Honolulu: 1940. Middleton, John. The Central Tribes of the North-Eastern Bantu. In Ethnographic Survey of Africa. East Central Africa, Part V. Edited by Daryll Forde. London: International African Institute, 195 3. Mill, John Stuart. Utilitarianism. In Great Books of the Western World, XLIII. Edited by Robert Maynard Hutchins. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 1952. 221 Monteil, Charles. The Bambara of S^gou and Kaarta: An Historical, Ethnological and Literary Study of a People of the French Sudan. Translated from’ the French for the HRAF by Kathryn A. Looney. New Haven. Morris, John. Living with Lepchas: A Book about the - S i k k i m H i m a l a y a s . L o n d o n : W i l l i a m H e i n e m a n n , L t d . Murdock, George Peter. Africa: Its Peoples and Their Culture History. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1959. _______. Social Structure. New York: The Macmillan C o m p a n y , 1949. Murphy, Robert. "Intergroup Hostility and Social Cohesion," American Anthropologist, LVIX (1957), 1018-1035. _______. "Ethics," in Encyclopedia of Morals. Edited by V e r g i l i u s F e r m . N e w Y o r k : P h i l o s o p h i c a l L i b r a r y , I n c . , 1956, 369-374. _______. "The Rubber Trade and the Mundurucu Village." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Colombia University, 1954. Musil, Alois. The Manners and Customs of the Rwala Bedouins. The American Geographical Society Orien tal Expeditions and Studies, No. 6. New York: 1928. Nimuendaju, Curt. The Tucuna. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, XLV. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1952. Oberg, Kalervo. "Crime and Punishment in Tlingit Society," American Anthropologist,XXXVI, No. 2 (1934), 145- 155. Paques, Viviana. The Bambara. Translated from the French for the HRAF by Thomas Turner. New Haven. 222 Pineda Giraldo, Roberto. Aspects of Magic in La Guajira. Translated from the French for the HRAF by Sydney Muirden. New Haven. Plaut, Hermann. "Contributions to the Knowledge of the Island of Formosa." Translated from the German for the HRAF. New Haven. Radin, Paul. Primitive Man as Philosopher. New York; Dover Publications, Inc., 1957. Roscoe, John. The Baganda. An Account of Their Native Customs and Beliefs. London: Macmillan and Co., 1911. Ross, Sir W. David. Foundations of Ethics. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1939. _______ . The Right and the Good. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1930. Roth, H. Ling. "The Natives of Borneo." Edited from the papers of the late Brooks Low, Esq. The Journal of The Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, XXII (1893), 22-64. Routledge, W. Scoresby, and Routledge, Katherine. With a Prehistoric People: The Akikuyu of British East Africa. London: Edward Arnold, 1910. Schapera, Isaac. The Khoisan Peoples of South Africa: Bushmen and Hottentots. London: George Routledge S c Sons, 1930. Silas, Ellis. A Primitive Arcadia. London: T. Fisher Unwin Ltd., 1926. Smith, Edwin W., and Dale, Andrew Murray. The Ila-Speak- ing Peoples of Northern Rhodesia. Vol. II. London: MacMillen and Co., 1920. Staden, Hans. The True Story of His Captivity. Trans lated and edited by Malcolm Letts. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1928. 223 S t e v e n s o n , C h a r l e s L . E t h i c s a n d L a n g u a g e . N e w H a v e n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1947. S t i r l i n g , M a t t h e w W i l l i a m s . H i s t o r i c a l a n d E t h n o g r a p h i c a l M a t e r i a l s o n t h e J i v a r o I n d i a n s . B u r e a u o f A m e r i c a n E t h n o l o g y , B u l l e t i n N o . 117. W a s h i n g t o n : S m i t h s o n i a n I n s t i t u t e , 1938. T a k a k u r a , S h i n i c h i r o . " T h e A i n u o f N o r t h e r n J a p a n : A Study in Conquest and Acculturation.", Translated and annotated by John A. Harrison. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, L, Part 4 (1960) . T a u x i e r , L . T h e B l a c k P o p u l a t i o n o f Y a t e n g a » T r a n s l a t e d f r o m t h e F r e n c h f o r t h e H R A F b y V a r i a n S c h m o k e l . N e w H a v e n . Tetens, Alfred, and Kubary, Johann. "The Caroline Island Yap or Guap, according to the Reports of Alfred Tetens and Johann Kubary." Translated from the German for the HRAF. New Haven: 1942. T h e v e t , A n d r £ . T h e P e c u l i a r i t i e s o f F r e n c h A n t a r t i c a , O t h e r w i s e C a l l e d A m e r i c a : T h e I s l a n d s D i s c o v e r e d i n O u r T i m e s . T r a n s l a t e d f r o m t h e F r e n c h f o r t h e H R A F b y A l f r e d M ^ t r a u x . N e w H a v e n . Tran-Van-Trai. The Annamese Patriarchal Family. Trans lated from the French for the HRAF by C. A. Messner. New Haven. V a n o v e r b e r g h , M o r i c e . T h e I s n e g L i f e C y c l e . P u b l i c a t i o n s o f t h e C a t h o l i c A n t h r o p o l o g i c a l C o n f e r e n c e , I I I , No. 2, pp. 81-186; No. 3, pp. 187-280. Washington: The Catholic Anthropological Conference, 1936-1938. Van Valkenburgh, Richard. "Navaho Common Law II: Navaho Law and Justice," Museum Notes: Museum of Northern Arizona, IX (1937), 51-54. Warner, W. Lloyd. A Black Civilization: A Social Study of an Australian Tribe. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1937. 224 Werkmeister, W. H. "Value Theory and the Problem of Moral Obligation," The Personalist, LXV, No. 3 (1964), 354-361. Westermarck, Edward. Ritual and Belief in Morocco. Vol II. London: Macmillan and Co., 1926. Wilken, G. A. Manual for the Comparative Ethnology of the Netherlands East Indies. Translated from the Dutch for the HRAF by S. Dumas Kaan. Williams, Francis E. Orokaiva Society. London: Oxford University Press, 1930. Wilson, Monica. Good Company: A Study of Nyakyusa Age Villages. London: Oxford University Press for the International African Institute, 1951. Winstedt, Sir Richard. The Malays. A Cultural History. New York: The Philosophical Library, 1950.
Linked assets
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
Conceptually similar
PDF
The Anthropological Basis Of Kant'S Philosophy
PDF
The Relation Of Moral Ideology To Dynamic Moral Philosophy
PDF
The Philosophies Of Antonio Caso And Jose Vasconcelos With Special Emphasis On Their Concepts Of Value
PDF
The Philosophies Of Ralph Tyler Flewelling And Edgar Sheffield Brightman: A Comparison And A Critique
PDF
Some Implications For The Doctrine Of God Of Hegel'S Concept Of Thought As Mediation
PDF
The Problem Of Moral Authority In Modern Jurisprudence
PDF
Value And Obligation: An Integration Of The Theories Of Ralph Barton Perry, C. I. Lewis, Dewitt Parker, And Charles L. Stevenson
PDF
Attitudes Of Ministers And Lay Leaders Of The American Baptist Conventionof The State Of Washington On Selected Social Issues
PDF
Hegel And Dewey And The Problem Of Freedom
PDF
The Philosophical Anarchism Of William Godwin: His Philosophy Of Man, State And Society
PDF
A Comparative Study Of Certain Alleged Similarities Between The Literature Of Qumran And The Fourth Gospel
PDF
A Philosophical Critique Of F. R. Tennant'S Empirical Approach To Theism In The Light Of Current Science
PDF
An Application Of Adaptation Level Theory To The Response Bias Of Falsification
PDF
Sex-Role Preferences Of Early Adolescents In Relation To Adjustment
PDF
The Logic Of Obligation
PDF
Teleology And Purpose In Recent Anglo-American Philosophy
PDF
The Concept Of Agent Intelligence In Aristotle: A Solution In Accordance With The Traditional Problem Of The One And The Many
PDF
The meaning of judicium and its relation to illumination in the philosophical dialogues of augustine
PDF
First Steps In An Attempt To Construct An Objective Test Of Character Structure
PDF
A Critical Analysis Of The Philosophical Fragments Of Epicharmus
Asset Metadata
Creator
Wall, George Bernard
(author)
Core Title
The Implications Of Cultural Anthropology For The Question: What Is The Basis Of Moral Obligation?
Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
Degree Program
Philosophy
Publisher
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
OAI-PMH Harvest,Philosophy
Language
English
Contributor
Digitized by ProQuest
(provenance)
Advisor
Werkmeister, William H. (
committee chair
), Long, Wilbur H. (
committee member
), Seward, Georgene H. (
committee member
)
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c18-177095
Unique identifier
UC11359678
Identifier
6510110.pdf (filename),usctheses-c18-177095 (legacy record id)
Legacy Identifier
6510110.pdf
Dmrecord
177095
Document Type
Dissertation
Rights
Wall, George Bernard
Type
texts
Source
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA